


Pulling The Strings

by Walkerbaby



Series: Life With The Master [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkerbaby/pseuds/Walkerbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if The Master had taken Martha hostage on the Valiant? And what if he were a bit more devious than even the Doctor had suspected? What hurts worse-- losing or losing the thing you didn't know you needed until it was gone</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> They all belong to the BBC and RTD

Title - Pulling the Strings  
Rating PG-13  
Disclaimer - not mine   


  


Chapter One

"Black hole converter," he’d sneered at the Doctor. "One in every rocket. If I can’t have this planet Doctor - then neither can you!" 

The other man had started rambling then. Blah, blah blah, can’t destroy the planet or you’ll kill us all. Kill yourself. Didn’t the Doctor ever think about anything? Really! How stupid did he think the Master actually was? Like he hadn’t realized the stupid do gooder had been inside the Archangel network from the beginning, or realized that the Freak was currently destroying the paradox machine and unlocking the Tardis controls all at the same time? 

"Nope," the Master snapped as he reached into his coat for the teleportation device Miss Jones had so kindly given him a few moments before. "I don’t think so." As he teleported he could just make out the Doctor struggling to reach him and failing - remaining trapped on the Earth below. 

As he rematerialized inside the Valiant he looked at the chaos surrounding him and smiled. "Expecting someone else perhaps?" He chuckled. "The Doctor maybe? Well too bad!"

Reaching out he grabbed Martha Jones, the whelp, by the collar of her jacket and pulled her in front of him forcefully. Holding her still with the hand still clasping the black hole converter he dug into the sports coat pocket for his screwdriver. Finding it, he pressed it against her temple. Smiling he looked at the others. "Anyone moves, Saint Martha gets it. Oh yes, and so does the planet and your precious Doctor currently trapped on it." 

With that he began to pull Martha out of the room and down the corridors toward the Tardis. The others followed behind cautiously, watching him drag their precious Saint Martha to his escape. 

"The Doctor isn’t going to let you get away with this," she panted angrily. 

"Oh do shut up," the Master rolled his eyes. "He isn’t going to do a thing to me." Leaning in for the killing shot he whispered into her ear. "It’s not like you’re Rose after all." He felt her stiffen then and smiled. Things would be going his way very, very soon. Keeping the laser screwdriver pointed at her head he dropped the black hole converter back into his pocket. Best if he kept that hidden from her for now. 

No one stopped him as he pulled Martha into the Tardis and slammed the door behind them. "You can’t move it," Martha taunted. "The Doctor locked the coordinates. Here or the end of the Universe. Your choice. But those are the only places you can go." 

"Wrong again faithful companion," the Master sneered as he threw the lock and began to press random buttons on the console. "Destroy the paradox machine and you have to destroy the lock holding the coordinates in place. This little baby’s fully functional and has a full tank as well. Thank you Freak!" 

He smiled at the shocked look on her face and hit the final button to slip them into the Time Vortex. "Doctor!" She screamed in panic and began to pound on the Tardis doors. "Let me out!" 

The Master clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I don’t think you really want that do you? I mean I’d let you out but well you’d be pulled apart by the Time Vortex. Really, pulled apart. Insides on the outside and all of that. It’s not very pleasant." 

"Doctor!" Martha screamed again and pounded on the Tardis doors. "Doctor!" Spinning she glared at the Master. "You monster! I don’t care if the two of you are the last of your kind - he’s going to kill you once he gets back here!" 

"You think?" the Master asked as he reclined in the jump seat and propped his feet on the console. "Really? You might be overestimating your value with the Doctor. I mean sure," he shrugged. "If you were Rose then I’d be worried. I mean she swallowed the Time Vortex, fought the Daleks, all sorts of things." 

"I walked the world!" Martha declared. "Helped him defeat the Master!" 

"You also unleashed me if you think about it," the Master chimed in. "So really all you did was try to clean up your own mess." 

"My mess!" 

"Well come on," he sighed. "Yana had no idea that he/I was the Master. Was quite content at the end of the Universe. Had enough provisions to last as things fell apart around him and Chanto. Even had himself some plans for a little cross species romance as the universe disintegrated around him. Not much, mind you, but a little snuggle wouldn’t have been bad. Then you show up and tell him to open the watch. Really Martha Jones, I wouldn’t be here at all except you told me to open that watch. I’d be at the end of the Universe romancing that delightful insect Chanto." 

"But," she stuttered. "You can’t blame this on me. I was only trying to help you! How was I supposed to know you’re evil?" 

"Ever heard the old saying ‘no good deed goes unpunished’ Martha Jones?" 

"Shut up!" She shouted and pounded against the door once more. "Just shut up!" 

"Oh fine!" The Master sighed dramatically. "I’m sure the Doctor will find a way to get here and handle it all before you know it. That magical, wonderful Doctor. I mean after all he saved Madame du Pompadour, he saved Rose I don’t know how many times. It should take him how long you think? The average is about five and a half hours right? We’ll give him six just for some wiggle room. What do you say Martha Jones? Six hours? A little bet? You win and before the Doctor kills me I’ll cook you dinner. He doesn’t show up in six hours then you cook me dinner." 

"I wouldn’t trust your cooking," Martha huffed. 

"You should," the Master smiled. "I’m actually quite good. It’s a hobby of sorts you could say. I’ll even let the Doctor test it for poison first with his screwdriver. It’s got a poison detection setting. Did you know that? No," he smiled. "Well it does. So when he shows up I’ll make dinner and then you can do what you want with me. Don’t worry I make a mean spaghetti bolognaise." 

He smirked at the look of disgust that passed her face. "No to the Italian food then? Well gee, what shall I cook? Guess I should think about that shouldn’t I?" With that he turned and began to saunter towards the kitchen. "I’m going to have tea. Would you care for some Martha Jones?" 

When she glared at him angrily he just smiled again. "No? Oh well. One question though." When she looked up he let his face assume an air of innocence. "You do know how to cook don’t you? I have a feeling you’ll be doing it for a very, very long time if we keep betting on the Doctor’s arrival." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Beans on toast?" The Master picked at his plate and looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "This was your idea of dinner? Bit of a sore loser aren’t you?" 

"Shut up," Martha muttered as she sat stonily across from him at the small round table in the Tardis kitchen.

"Beans on toast?" He repeated. "Martha Jones this isn’t even edible!"

"You wanted dinner," she snapped. "This is dinner."

"Beans on toast are not dinner," the Master corrected. "You cheated. That’s all there is to it. You cheated."

"How did I cheat?" Martha found herself arguing. "It’s food isn’t it?"

"Hardly," he snorted. "You cheated Martha Jones. I know what this is."

"What is it?"

"You’re trying to get me to take you on a date. That’s what this is! You’re trying to seduce me Martha Jones."

"Don’t flatter yourself," she rolled her eyes and he tried to hide the smirk he felt tugging at the corners of his mouth. Things were going exactly to plan. The Master fingered the black hole converter in his pocket. Everything was just where he wanted it.

"Oh come now Martha Jones," he smiled. "A dinner out could be nice. Just the two of us? I know some nice restaurants on an Earth satellite that you’ll love."

"I’m not hungry," Martha retorted.

"Please Martha," he pouted at her and batted his eyes. "Let me take you out to dinner. Put on a pretty dress and let me take you out?"

"I don’t want to go anywhere with you," she argued. "You’re a monster."

"Well, if you don’t go out to dinner with me then you’re not going to eat." The Master said with finality. "I’m locking the Tardis kitchen and there will be no food until you agree to come out with me for dinner. Nicely."

"I’d rather starve," Martha said defiantly.

"Oh you don’t mean that," the Master rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that and they never mean it. Especially you Miss Jones. I mean come now Martha, you were training to be a doctor you know what starvation’s like. How painful it is."

"I don’t care," Martha continued to sit stonily in her chair with her arms crossed.

"What ever would the Doctor say?" The Master said mockingly and shook his head. "Here he’s coming to rescue you and you’ll be too weak to help him defeat me. How sad."

He smiled as he saw her glare at him accusingly. "Didn’t think about that did you? Didn’t think the Doctor might need your help with something? Why would you though? I mean after all he’s never needed you before. You’re not Rose after all. He needed her all the time. You though, you’re just a passenger on the good ship Tardis. A stray dog you told me once."

"Shut it," Martha said.

"Consider it zipped," the Master said as he mimed zipping his lips closed. He then mimed unzipping them. "Are you going to go change into something nice so we can go out to dinner?" He mimed zipping them again.

"Yes," Martha sighed. "I’d like a chance to shower as well."

The Master simply nodded and began making complicated hand motions. He tried to repress his smile as Martha glared at him. Finally she was trying to match wits with him - things were going even better than he’d originally planned.

"What are you trying to tell me?" She said and acted as though she was talking to a child.

The Master mimed unzipping his lips again. "You go take a nice long, luxurious bath. Put some bubbles in if you like. Get nice and clean. Then when you’re finished meet me in the console room. I’ll go plug in the coordinates now and then I think I might take a shower as well. Get rid of the grime of the day."

Martha simply glared as the Master made his way to the kitchen doorway. He could feel her eyes boring into his back and knew that if they were daggers he would have lost the last of his regenerations by now. Turning he smiled at her from the doorway. "Go take your bath. Unless," he did his most seductive smile and jerked his thumb through the doorway and raised an eyebrow. "Conservation of water and such."

"Go to," Martha started and he tutted.

"Now now Martha Jones, part of the agreement was you had to play nicely. Otherwise no food."

"I think our water consumption will be fine," Martha retorted.

"Your choice," the Master shrugged and walked through the doorway. Turning around again he smiled at her. "I’ve made some changes to your room. I do hope you approve of them."

Changes to her room, Martha thought sullenly. Great, he intended to gloat. A prison cell to help her remember just what she was - a prisoner. The Doctor would be here soon. He would rescue her soon. He had to. He just had to.

There has to be some reason he hasn’t rescued her yet, Martha thought to herself. Some reason he wasn’t here. An emergency. Or he was busy working out how to get to her. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying, Martha thought to herself. He had to be trying. She tried to push the niggling doubts from the back of her mind. He was coming for her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t Rose. The Doctor was coming for her.

Stopping in the corridor in front of her room, her cell, Martha corrected herself she let out a deep sigh and tried to mentally steel herself for what was to come. Whatever humiliation the Master had created she wasn’t going to allow him to see how it affected her.

Pushing open the door she stood gape mouthed looking at the space that had once enclosed her room. During her time with the Doctor the room had been decently sized and reminiscent of the bedroom in her flat. A small, white, utilitarian ensuite bath had been attached. Standing in the doorway Martha estimated that her room was now five times larger than it had been originally. The functional beige carpet was gone, replaced with silver veined white marble and what had been turquoise walls were now large fluted columns supporting overhead archways to give the room a sense of vastness. The double bed clad in cotton sheets she’d tossed fitfully on her first few nights had been replaced by an enormous bed on a raised platform covered in muted silk. Martha ran it through her fingers experimentally as she stood there staring at the room from a different angle - whatever the material was, silk or otherwise, Martha could tell it was expensive.

Gazing about the room she noticed a small sitting area complete with a chaise surrounded on two sides by tall bookcases and looking out over a large, arched window. A window on the Tardis? How strange was that! Walking over she peered through it and saw that while the ‘window’ was real the scene outside of it was not. There was no way that the Tardis could have built a window in space to look on the back garden of the summer house her parents used to rent when she was a child. It simply wasn’t possible. That didn’t make it seem any less real though. Carefully breaking her eyes away from the window she stared at the bookshelves. Medical books, proper ones, as well as thick editions on science and mathematics. More on languages, Shakesphere, philosophy.

Reaching out for the leather spine of Plato Martha sighed. "Not much use for Plato," the Doctor had said one day. "He got everything wrong. His dialogs are absolute rubbish. I met Aristotle and he was never as conquered as Plato made him out to be. Never one to be complacent - that was Aristotle. After that never did have any use for Plato. Squinty eyed little show off anyway."

"I always loved that particular book," the Master’s voice broke in gently behind her. Martha spun to look at him and hid the book behind her back. "No, no, don’t hide it from me Miss Jones. The books here are meant for your enjoyment. Your own personal library. Of course anything you would like from the main library is yours as well, I had simply thought these books would be most likely to hold your interest."

"What are you doing here?" Martha tried to make the tremble in her voice sound as if it was from rage and not fear.

"Me?" The Master shrugged. "I wanted to make sure your room was to your liking. Suitable and all that. If you don’t like it," he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I can return it to how it was. I just thought you might like something more spacious, a little more comfortable perhaps."

"It’s lovely," Martha answered tersely and then stopped herself when she noticed him looking at his feet. The Time Lord might be a monster but he had done something nice for her - there was no harm in being polite. "Thank you," she said. "The room is lovely."

"Right," the Master looked up with a grin. "Well I hope the bath meets your requirements as well. When you’re finished," he motioned toward the console room.

"Of course," Martha agreed. "Console room, pretty dress, dinner."

"Precisely," the Master shrugged and quickly made his way from the room. Martha returned the book she’d been clutching to it’s place on the shelf and moved cautiously toward the bath he’d pointed out before. This would be the cell, she thought to herself. She’d walk in and it would be disgusting and when she fled she’d find that this room was a cell as well. He was simply trying to torture her with false hope for comfort.

Martha stepped into the bath and found that the white marble floors were replaced with ones of a pale gold color. The bath was triple the size of her old room and instead of a bath tub she found herself with a bathing pool with rose petals strewn across the top. On a silver worked vanity nearby she found expensive soaps and lotion for her to use. In the corner she spied a stand up shower and crossed to it quickly. Reaching in, shielded by the door, she turned on the tap and instead of the usual spray a waterfall cascaded from the ceiling above. Turning the taps off quickly, Martha retreated back to the bathing pool in the center of the room. Next to the vanity were two racks - one held towels and the other was empty. Above it was a hanging bar and a small switch lay nestled next to each. "What’s this then?" Martha muttered and felt the Tardis hum in her mind. The bars began to vibrate softly and Martha could see that they were heating. On the hanging bar a dress bag appeared and when she touched it Martha could feel that it was warm as well.

She wasn’t sure what the Master’s evil plan was. Torture her to death with luxury? Let her revel in it and then jerk it all away? Whatever it was - Martha had spent a year walking the Earth alone and she wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity for a hot bath regardless of the meglomaniac currently making it possible.


	3. Pulling the Strings (3/?)

 Title - Pulling the Strings (3/?)  
Rating - PG-13 this chapter/ NC-17(M) overall  
Disclaimer - Everything and everyone belongs to the BBC and RTD. That doesn't change that the Master is the Time Lord I want to travel time and space with.  


  


[Part One](http://walkerbaby.livejournal.com/5411.html#cutid1)

   
[Part Two](http://walkerbaby.livejournal.com/2773.html#cutid1)   
[Part Four](http://walkerbaby.livejournal.com/3483.html#cutid1)  
[Part Five  
Part Six  
Part Seven](http://walkerbaby.livejournal.com/4709.html#cutid1)  
[Part Eight](http://walkerbaby.livejournal.com/4943.html#cutid1)  
[](http://walkerbaby.livejournal.com/7438.html#cutid1)Part Nine  
Part Ten  
Part Eleven  
Part Twelve  
Part Thirteen  
Part Fourteen  
Part Fifteen  
Part Sixteen

  
Chapter Three

The Master was busy adjusting the cuffs of his shirt when Martha entered the console room. He had planned on allowing his mouth to open in mock surprise when he saw her, women liked to be flattered after all. Instead he found that his jaw was hanging open and nothing about the surprise was faked in the slightest. "You look," he cleared his voice then when he noticed it sounded unnaturally high. 

Martha simply stared at him and quirked an eyebrow. "Thank you." 

"You’re," the Master ran a finger under the collar of his dress shirt and began fiddling with the tie that seemed a bit more snug than a moment before. "You’re welcome." 

Purple suited her, he thought to himself. He’d known that purple suited her after the party at the Lazarus labs. He’d remembered just how much the shade she’d been wearing had set off the bloom in her cheeks and made her eyes appear larger than they already were. Purple suited her. 

"So what delights do you have planned for dinner then?" Martha’s abrupt comment brought him back into the moment as he adjusted to the sight of her in the purple silk. "There’s a," he stopped when one of the thin straps slid from her shoulder. Mentally he shook himself, he was the Master. The Master! He’d had beautiful human consorts before. Lucy and, he stopped. Well, he knew there had been others. Mind you all of them were slightly mad but that changed nothing. Beautiful women did not intimidate the Master. "There’s a restaurant here on Promethian IV that has excellent cuisine," the Master said. "Almost a bistro of sorts. Specialty is 21st century French cuisine. Usually has a band playing music, that sort of thing. Would that be something you’re interested in?" 

"Sounds lovely," Martha answered as she fingered the material of her skirt. He wasn’t looking at where her fingers twitched. He wasn’t thinking about the lovely legs covered by that material. He was the Master and women did not make him act like a fool. He wasn’t the Doctor after all. 

"Come along then," the Master reached out and hooked her arm through his. "I hope you don’t mind a short walk? I know those shoes must be uncomfortable but I promise it’s only a street or two over from where we are now. I could carry you if you like?" 

"Carry me?" Martha repeated. "More like drag me as a prisoner you mean?" 

"Nice Martha Jones," he warned as he patted her on the hand. "You promised to be nice." 

"You’re right," she nodded. "My apologies." 

Carry her to the restaurant? The Master thought to himself as they made their way down the street. Had he actually offered to carry her? Oh Rassilon! How stupid had he sounded? He’d only meant to inquire if her feet hurt - gentlemanly - and he’d ended up sounding like a lunatic. Just what he had in mind. She already thinks you’re a monster and a sociopath now she thinks you’re a blithering idiot to boot. Today was not shaping up to be a good day for the Master. 

When he stopped abruptly in front of the restaurant he could see Martha staring at him in a mixture of curiosity and fear. She feared him. Made sense really - everyone feared him including Lucy. His own wife had feared him. The woman he’d tried to pet and indulge her every whim. She’d been insane and needy and demanding though and in the end she’d feared him as much as everyone else had. Had helped the Doctor try to overthrow him. 

"We’re here," he said curtly and pulled her toward the door. Looking at the maitre’d he put on his most charming smile. "Reservation for two. Under Saxon." 

"Saxon?" The man repeated and looked at his list. "Of course. Saxon. If you and the lady will follow me." 

"Daring," Martha whispered as they were led through the restaurant. "I had expected you to take a different name now." 

The Master didn’t answer her as they were led to a table near the dance floor. The table he’d specifically requested. Not too close to the musicians, dark enough to be almost secluded, but near enough that if either of them felt inclined it wouldn’t be an inconvenience to dance. As the maitre’d moved to pull out a chair for Martha the Master reached out and grabbed the man’s forearm. 

"I think that would be my pleasure tonight if you’d please," he said as he reached for the back of Martha’s chair. Sliding it out gracefully he tried his most charming smile on her. "After all how often is it I get to take out such a wonderful woman to dinner?" 

"Of course Sir," the maitre d smiled then as the Master sat in his own chair. "Is there anything else I can bring you at the moment?" 

"Oh," the Master sighed and pretended to contemplate. "A bottle of your red wine perhaps? What do you think Martha dear? A bottle of Delasacrian red? Or would you prefer a white wine instead? Either will be superb but the red will go much better with the veal and the beef that the restaurant is famous for." 

He could tell Martha was doing her best to hide the glare he could see lingering in her eyes. "Red wine will be fine thank you," she smiled to the maitre d. "The absolute best bottle you have in the house. My Harry after all only deserves the best." 

"Well," the maitre d’s eyes bulged slightly and the Master felt his own fingers twitch on the table at the same time. "Ma’am we have a lovely 5367. It’s the bottle of course that I would recommend. I must tell you though," the maitre d lowered his voice. 

The Master couldn’t hide his smile when Martha turned to look at the maitre d with complete sincerity. "Money is no object for my Harry you’ll find," she purred. "He understands that all the best things in life cost a little extra after all." 

The Master couldn’t help but laugh once the maitre d had returned with their bottle of wine, poured both a glass and then went back on his way. Raising his goblet he saluted the woman across from him. "Very well played Martha. Very, very well played. This bottle of wine costs as much as your first car I think. If I were actually paying for it and not using the psychic paper to pay in credits then I would almost be worried. As it is I still would have ordered the same bottle but it’s nice to see you’re playing along as well." 

Martha took a sip from her own glass and smiled sweetly at him over the rim. "Awful gutsy to use your own name like that. Didn’t think anyone would be looking for Harold Saxon?" 

"Now?" He laughed as he opened his menu. "Why ever would they be looking for Harold Saxon now? No, the people who are looking for Harold Saxon, Prime Minister of Britain are 40,000 years in the past. By now the Earth has ceased to be a livable planet. All of your kind are on satellites such as this. About 200 years into your future the people of Earth will start to colonize the stars. You’ll branch out and make settlements all across the galaxy. Then one day this madman will come along and destroy the Earth. Wipe it out entirely. Luckily your species will survive on the satellite communities." 

"A madman will wipe out the Earth?" Martha repeated. "You seem to think rather highly of yourself and your skills don’t you? I mean you’ve already failed once. What makes you think you’ll succeed the next time. Although I will admit - it’s nice to see you’re embracing your mental illness." 

"Not me," the Master replied as he took a drink of his wine. "I recommend the veal piccata here by the way - it’s an excellent dish. I’ll be having the cassoulet which is another specialty of theirs. If you’d like you can take a bite of mine and try it as well." 

"I think I’ll survive thanks," Martha rolled her eyes and the Master suddenly felt like a bumbling teenager again. An idiot. Only one other person had ever made him feel this way and back then they had been teenagers. Barely a century old, either of them and Theta had always managed to make him feel like a plod every time he opened his mouth. 

"You’re choice," the Master tried his most charming smile again and felt her thaw almost imperceptibly with another sip of wine. The smile was genuine a few moments later when he found she had taken his advice and was ordering the veal. 

As they waited for dessert he motioned to the waiter for another bottle of wine. "White this time," he said pleasantly. "The lady’s ordered chocolate and I was thinking the Chatragorian Riesling 3793 might work perfectly." 

"Of course," the man bowed slightly and scurried away. He was back in almost an instant with the chilled bottle of wine and once the bottle was uncorked he allowed the Master to pour Martha a glass. Once the man was gone he refocused his attention entirely on her. 

"Tell me about why you decided to become a Doctor," he said abruptly. "What made you decide on that?" 

"It’s not that strange for a woman to be a doctor," Martha said defensively. 

"No, no, I agree it’s not at all." The Master answered. "The only reason I ask is because your parents - neither of them are particularly scientifically inclined. Neither is your sister Tish. Much more people types. It seems strange that you would seek out something like medicine then." 

"I was fascinated by science," Martha confessed. "There were always right answers if you dug hard enough. The right answers and you could help people, care for them. Make them better. Take away their pain." 

"Science must have been a very comforting place to lose yourself during your parents’ break up then," the Master said sympathetically. 

"What would you know about it?" Martha said and he could see the irritation in her eyes. 

"Nothing," the Master said calmly. "I did notice that Tish seemed much happier once your parents reconciled aboard the Valiant. I allowed them to be bunked together and apparently they decided to work things out between them. Love in the face of adversity you could say." 

"Because of you my parents are reconciled?" Martha snorted. "Don’t make me laugh." 

"I didn’t say it was because of me," the Master corrected. "I said they reconciled while aboard the Valiant. Two very different things. I didn’t force them together. They loved each other and once they quit arguing and worrying about their hurt pride they realized that." 

"Sounds about right," Martha agreed. "That’s always how they were. More worried about their pride than anything else." 

"That must be hard." 

"You know," Martha shrugged. "Parents." 

"No, actually," the Master sipped his wine. "I wouldn’t. On Gallifrey we were raised in creche’s. Communally. There were no parental bonds like you have on Earth. I’m surprised the Doctor didn’t tell you that." 

"The Doctor hasn’t told me much about Gallifrey," Martha said quietly. "Just that it’s gone now. And that it was beautiful." 

"It was," the Master agreed. "If you’d like someday I can tell you about it. To pass the time until the Doctor arrives to rescue you and kill me." 

Martha simply glared at him and the Master spooned a large portion of creme brulee up and offered it to her. "You should try this. It’s divine." 

"That’s all right," Martha replied. 

"No, really. I promise it’s not poisoned. You’ve been watching me eat it and do you think I’d honestly eat something poisonous? Trust me. Take a bite it’s delicious." 

"Trust you?" 

"Just this once," the Master argued reasonably. "Trust me on dessert. You won’t be disappointed." He smiled as Martha leaned across the table delicately and allowed him to place the spoon in her mouth. He felt a slight tug on the spoon as she licked it clean and then saw her eyes widen dramatically. 

"Good isn’t it?" He smiled. 

"Delicious," Martha agreed. 

"I said you could trust me," the Master answered. "Would you care to dance?" 

"No," the walls came back up suddenly around her and the Master tried to hide his disappointment. What did he care if she didn’t want to dance with him? He was simply being polite is all. Keeping her from a dinner of beans on toast. Trying to manipulate her so that when the Doctor failed to show and rescue her she’d remain a compliant traveling companion. Hostage, he corrected himself. A compliant hostage. 

"I’ll just arrange to pay the check then," the Master said curtly. "I’m sure you’d like to return to your room in the Tardis to rest." Martha eyed him warily then and he could see that she knew he was angry. Taking a deep breathe he tried to soften his demenor. 

Once the bill was paid he reached into his jacket and retrieved a small black box that lay nestled there along with the black hole converter. "I have a gift for you," he announced as he slid the box across the table. 

"What’s this then?" Martha eyed him warily. 

"Just open it," the Master answered. ‘

Martha opened the box and stared at the small black fob inside. "I repeat, sincerely this time, what is it?" 

"An electronic lock," the Master replied. "It goes to the door of your room. The only way you can enter the room is with that fob. The only way modifications can be made to the room is by using that fob. Otherwise the Tardis will reject your attempts. No exceptions. There’s only one fob to the room and you have it." 

"Why is that then?" She eyed him skeptically. 

" I want you to know that you may not trust me in the slightest but that you are safe. I’ll not interfere with your room, if you like we don’t have to interact at all. The Tardis is in tune with you telepathically and I’ve already set the coordinates so that she arranges for food whenever and wherever you like. I’d like to believe that you are not my prisoner but a temporary guest until the time that the Doctor chooses to retrieve you or you choose to leave of your own accord. Since you’re my guest I think it’s customary to let you know that you have all the privacy and space that you may desire. My spaceship is in fact your spaceship." 

With that being said he stood up and walked around to pull her chair out. Reaching down he took her hand and escorted her from the restaurant. She continued to stare at him for a few moments as they walked along the quiet streets and back to the Tardis. The Master tried to remain unperturbed by her staring. 

Once the Tardis was unlocked he allowed her inside first and then closed the door behind them. "Do you have a preference as to our next journey Martha?" 

"No," she answered quietly. "I can’t imagine you intend to take me back to Earth just now." 

"Not the 21st century," the Master agreed. "Anywhere else in time would be perfectly acceptable though. I guess I should amend my question. Is there any preference on where we go on the journey after this one? I have a short stop I need to make on Delacassius, it should only take a few hours and after that the Tardis and I are at your almost unlimited disposal. Barring a return to 21st century London and my imminent arrest. We wouldn’t want to make it that easy for the Doctor after all. He should have to work to retrieve a woman like you. Struggle I think. Then he might realize what he’s missing." 

"Wherever you choose will be fine," Martha said curtly. "Good night." 

Reaching out impulsively the Master grabbed her right hand. Bringing the knuckles up he brushed his lips across them. "Thank you for dinner tonight Miss Jones. I must say all things considered it was a lovely evening." 

"Thank you," Martha responded. 

"Same bet for tomorrow evening then as well?" 

"The Doctor will be here tomorrow," Martha said with faith. 

"If he’s not will you reheat the beans on toast again?" The Master asked warily. When she glared at him he lowered his head slightly. "I’ll just make reservations somewhere nice then shall I?" 

He heard her door slam as it echoed around the Tardis and wondered if the ship had amplified the sound to make sure he was aware of Martha’s displeasure. He slumped in the leather sofa that had replaced the Doctor’s battered captains chair. Closing his eyes he tried to relax the ache from his neck muscles. 

He mentally debated whether to begin work on stage two of his plan and decided against it. He had attempted to start intergalactic war, been thwarted by the Doctor, escaped into the Tardis, taken a hostage, and been wrung through the mill taking said hostage out for dinner. Stage two could wait till tomorrow. For once he needed to sleep. A nice long rest before the real battle began. The reason he had done all of this, every single thing, in the first place. Except that he always loved taking over another world. Especially Earth. The second reason though. That battle was still in progress and he currently had the upper hand - the Doctor didn’t even realize the battle was being fought. If he was lucky he’d win before the other Time Lord ever had a chance. 

  



	4. Pulling the Strings (4/?)

 Title - Pulling the Strings (4/?)  
Rating - PG-13 this chapter NC-17 overall  
Disclaimer - Own nothing, have nothing making no profit. Everything good in life belongs to RTD and BBC

  


Chapter Four

 

The Tardis was silent for a week as Martha stayed confined to her room. Had taken him at his word that he wouldn’t bother her and that she could stay locked away if she wanted. Each morning he stood in front of her doorway and waited for it to open. When it didn’t he’d wander into the console room and begin working on other things. When he got hungry again he’d wander back to the room and knock on her door. 

"Martha? I’m having lunch would you like some?" He would ask. 

"The Tardis has sent food to my room," came the inevitable reply. The door would never open and he’d stand there for a few moments more before wandering off again. 

Each night he’d walk back to that room and knock on the door again. "Martha would you like some dinner? We’re on," insert whatever planet name here, "and they have some lovely restaurants. Would you care to come out and join me?" 

"I have food thank you," would be the curt response and he’d stare at the door a few moments longer before slinking into the Tardis kitchen to make a sandwich. Back to the console room he would go to work on parts two and three of his plan. Better to be prepared he thought. He’d want things in place the moment he needed them. She’d come around eventually.

After ten days the door to her room opened and he dropped the sandwich he’d been eating on the floor. "Thought you were going to a restaurant. Seafood you said." Martha inquired brusquely. 

"I hate eating alone," the Master answered. "People always seem to stare. Thought I’d make a sandwich instead. If you’d like though," he stopped and inclined his head toward the door. 

"Might as well," Martha answered. "I could use some fresh air. I’ll just go change." 

"No need," the Master answered as he stood up and moved toward the console. "Barcelona’s a very casual planet. You’ll fit right in." 

"You’re in a suit," Martha argued. 

"Remediable," the Master answered as he removed his suit coat and tie. Undoing the top button of his dress shirt he reached out to plug coordinates into the Tardis and stopped. "Martha?" 

"Yes?" 

"Have you ever flown a Tardis?" 

"All the time. I’ve been flying with you for the past ten days." She answered. 

"No, not in a Tardis. Have you ever actually piloted it?" 

"Piloted the Tardis?" Martha laughed. "Now I know you’re pulling my leg. The Doctor would never let anyone touch his Tardis. Besides only a Time Lord could fly it." 

"Bah," the Master waved his hand at her dismissively. "What rubbish has he been telling you? Only pilotable by a Time Lord? Ridiculous! I mean really. It’s not easy mind but you? Martha Jones? You could be flying this thing in a week. Maximum time." 

"A week?" Martha stepped back and looked at him appraisingly. "Don’t be daft." 

"Who’s being daft?" The Master said and chuckled mentally to himself at how well his plan was going. "I’m telling you, me the Master, is telling you, Martha Jones, that I could teach you to fly a Tardis in a week. Soft landings and all." 

"Liar." 

"I’d bet you Martha Jones but you already owe me ten dinners as it is. I don’t think you should be gambling." 

"You really think I could fly the Tardis?" She was curious now. Good. 

"Smart girl like you? No problem. Come here." 

"Get out," she snapped irritably.

"Well you have to come close enough to touch the console," he rolled his eyes. "And let me show you how to program it. Do you want to learn how to fly or not?" 

She stepped closer and the Master pointed at the screen in front of them. "That’s where you plug the coordinates in." 

"I can’t read Gallifreyan." Martha said softly. 

"Don’t need to. Just like the Tardis translates everything for you she can translate your input for coordinates at the same time. So what you need to do," he reached out and grabbed her by the arm to drag her in front of the console. Taking her hands he placed them on the keyboard. "What you need to do is this. First type in the galaxy you want to visit, then the planet, location on it you want to go to, year and then if you know it the date." 

"That’s all I have to do?" Martha asked. 

"To set the coordinates yes." The Master replied. "Now let’s give it a try. Type Europa Galaxy, Barcelona, Gaudi, that’s the town, and then put in 35,687. Say April." 

"They have April on Barcelona?" Martha asked. 

"No, but the Tardis will know that you’re talking about a seasonal condition and she’ll adjust accordingly to find the temperature and growing seasons on Barcelona most similar to those of London." 

"Right," Martha answered. 

"Now," the Master pointed to a button. "Hit this, flip that switch. Crank the wheel and when you’re ready release the handbrake." 

"That’s it?" Martha raised her eyebrows again. 

"Hit the button, flip the switch, crank the wheel, release the handbrake." The Master confirmed. 

"Hit the button," Martha mumbled to herself as she did it. "Flip the switch, crank the wheel and release the handbrake." When she’d slammed the handbrake home she looked over tentatively at the Master and he made sure to smile at her. 

"Congratulations Martha Jones, you’ve just done what you thought impossible. You, Martha Jones, just piloted a Tardis. Very well to I must say," the Master added as the machine began to wheeze and solidify on Barcelona. "Even your landing was smooth. Very good." 

She was smiling radiantly at him and he didn’t think she even realized it. How often had she smiled like this at the Doctor and he’d been unaware of it? How many times had her eyes lit up in delight only to be quashed by his disinterest. Bad Doctor, the Master thought to himself. He really should be more considerate about the feelings of his companions. After all, Martha was almost purring and all he’d done is let her pilot one simple little Tardis. 

  



	5. Pulling the Strings (5/?)

 Title - Pulling the Strings (5/?)  
Rating - PG-13 this chapter NC-17 overall   
Disclaimer - Not mine but oh if it were.   


  


  


Chapter Five

They started rotating then, at the Master’s insistence. He would fly to one place and she would have to fly to the next. Usually his trips involved other planets and hers involved the past. Perfectly fine, he thought, she didn’t know the universe as well as he did and she stuck to things that were comfortable. Besides it gave her practice programming the Tardis accurately. The first few trips he watched her carefully. Not once did she punch in London though. Never. No where in the Earth’s history did she want to see London. When he’d asked all she said was "spent enough time being treated like a second class citizen in London why go back for more?" 

After two weeks he quit watching her program things in. He once even wandered off to the kitchen and made them tea so that she could see his trust in her plainly. Nothing at all to stop her from programming in London the day after they left. They ended up instead in the caravan of Marco Polo on it’s way to the court of the Khan. 

"I’ve always imagined what it was like," Martha confided in him. "Ever since I read his adventures as a girl. Imagine the Great Wall of China, the Forbidden City!" 

"I’ll have to be careful," the Master whispered back into her ear. "With the Khan’s eye for pretty ladies I’ll have to stand on guard or before you know it you’ll be living inside the Forbidden City as part of his harem." 

She slid slightly closer to him and the Master smiled. He was a better alternative than the Khan, he was moving up in the world. He decided to risk it and slid an arm around her shoulder as they walked. When she didn’t move away he let it stay there. By the end of their journey he’d been made Marco Polo’s closest advisor and she’d taken to riding behind him in the saddle instead of walking. 

The Khan had been enchanted with Martha Jones on first sight as the Master had expected. Flattery had followed, then gifts, then attempts at seduction. Finally the man had offered out right to buy her with a room filled with gold and another of various treasures. The Master couldn’t help laughing as they raced through the night on the horse she’d affectionately named Tish’s back. Once inside the Tardis they’d slammed the door and he’d raced to the console, slipping them into the Vortex just as he heard the dull thump of arrows against the time machine’s sides. 

"Couldn’t stop fluttering your eyelashes at him for two seconds?" The Master teased as Martha began to pull the intricate ornaments from her hair. 

"I wasn’t the one who upset him," Martha retorted. "You’re the one with a Chinese death sentence on your head signed by the Khan himself." 

"Next time I’ll just leave you then to be a consort?" The Master raised an eyebrow and then opened his arms. "Take his money and leave you behind?"

"Don’t you dare," she whispered as she gave him a hug. 

"I would never," he agreed and gave her a squeeze. Given the state of their last adventure the Master thought it was time to begin stage two of his plan. Letting her go he hit a sequence of buttons on the keyboard that made the Tardis shudder. 

"Looks like she needs some more repairs," he lied. "Mind if we stay in the Vortex for a while?" 

"Better than breaking down somewhere when we need to escape," Martha answered. 

"Great," the Master agreed. "You sleep, I’ll work." When she stumbled off to her room the Master smiled. He considered briefly about merging part two and three of his plan and decided that it could work. If he could just manipulate her in the proper direction. 

The next morning she found him exactly in the position he wanted, slumped over in the leather sofa seemingly fast asleep. When she tried to wake him he only made muffled noises and buried his head deeper. He worried a moment later that his plan hadn’t worked when she left the console room. It wouldn’t work if she went back to her room. She needed to poke around on the console computers. 

He was pleasantly surprised a moment later to see her returning with the comforter from her room. Snuggling in as she draped it across him he allowed himself to shift into a position to better watch her. 

"Are you fixed old girl?" She asked lovingly as she ran a hand across the console. "I didn’t break you with that last trip did I?" He heard the machine hum. 

"He got you fixed then?" Martha continued. "Good. He surprises me you know," he could see her smile then. "He’s a monster, really a monster. He’s done horrible things. Terrible things. But somehow he’s not all that bad when you get to know him one on one." 

Humans, he thought to himself. So easily persuaded to see the best in things and people. 

"What’s this then?" He tried his best to stay still as she finally reached the screen he’d left open ‘accidentally’ for her. "October 4th," she read. "It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen Rose. Since I lost her in the Void. I took Martha to see the Praxillian mating and on a merry chase after a lizard that was set to destroy the southern part of London, near the Powell Estate. Where Rose lived. It made me think about her more today. How much she would have enjoyed it. Her sense of adventure. Martha doesn’t have that. I know I shouldn’t ask her to - she can’t replace Rose after all. She keeps the Tardis happy though, a female companion so the old girl doesn’t have to listen to me blather all the time. What I wouldn’t give to have Rose back. Martha’s just not the same." 

He heard her scanning through more entries in the Doctor’s ‘diary’ and could almost see smoke rising from her ears. More entries related to how much he missed Rose and how Martha wasn’t a suitable replacement. He could hear comments like "not a tenth as pretty," and "thinks she’s smarter than she is," were followed by ones like "spoiled, stuck up little rich girl," and "wouldn’t it have been lovely to have Rose in 1913. The Tardis could have said we were married and there would have been none of the complications with Joan Redfern." 

When she slammed her palm against the console angrily he took that as his cue to ‘wake up’. "Martha?" He tried his best to sound sleepy. He looked over at her then and let his eyes widen in horror. "Don’t read the screen!" He announced suddenly. 

"Too late," she snapped. "I saw your bedtime reading." 

"Martha!" He called out as she stormed from the console room and back to her chamber. Following her down the hall he tried to get her to stop. "Martha! Please come back here and talk to me!" 

"No!" She announced as she slammed the door to her room. The Master sat cross legged on the floor outside. 

"Martha! Talk to me please?" 

"No!" 

"I’m going to sit here and wait until you come out and talk to me. The Tardis’s floor is cold so could you please come out here or let me in there? Your floor is at least heated." 

"No!" 

"Martha," he leaned his head against the door. "You weren’t supposed to see that." 

"Then why did you leave it up?" 

"He’s scatterbrained," the Master lied. "The repair log on the Tardis is intermingled with his personal diary. I was scanning through it to see what repairs he’d made the last time he was on her. Thought it might help me figure out what the problem was this time.I didn’t want you to see that." 

"Doesn’t matter," she huffed from behind the door. 

"It does," the Master tried to sound soothing. "You’re hurt. That matters." 

"It doesn’t matter," she insisted. "Why am I talking to you about this after all? You’re evil. You probably left it there for me to see." 

"I did not!" The Master said hotly. "I didn’t want you to see it. I’ve been trying to hide it from you. Besides I might be a monster but have I ever treated you as shabby as he did?" 

"You decimated my planet. Made intergalactic war on it. Turned humans into slaves." 

"I didn’t destroy it in a silly, mad attempt to cross the Void for Rose Tyler!" He shouted. Things were starting to go to plan. 

The door jerked open suddenly. "What?" She hissed. 

"Never mind," the Master said softly and made to get up. "I’m a monster. I destroyed your planet, made intergalactic war and turned your species into slaves. You shouldn’t trust anything I say." 

"Shut up and tell me what you said again." Martha said and tears welled up in her eyes. 

"I can’t do both Martha Jones," he answered with a shrug. "What do you want it to be?" 

"Tell me what happens to Earth." 

"Let me show you instead," the Master replied. "Not the actual event. I wouldn’t ask you to see that. Let me take you to Humira. Come to the console room with me?" 

"What’s on Humira?" Martha asked. 

"The first wave of Earth refugees," the Master replied. "They were a satellite colony of Earth. The nearest. The planet sustained some damage from the Earth’s destruction. You should see it." 

Martha followed him quietly into the console room. "You blew up the Earth and now you’re taking me to see the refugees?" 

"I didn’t blow up the Earth," the Master retorted as he plugged coordinates in. "And I’m taking you to Humira because you’re a doctor and that’s something they’re in short supply of in a crisis. You know human anatomy. Time to get in there and help." 

"What about you?" Martha asked. "What are you going to do?" 

"I can’t work as a doctor," the Master informed her. "I don’t have the training and besides I’m somewhere in the hospital anyway. Took a nasty blow to the head a few regenerations ago when I stopped there for supplies. I’ll charm my way into an administrative post. Order others around so things get done efficiently." 

"That’s what you’re good at," Martha said glumly. "Convincing others to do it your way." 

"And you’re good at helping them." He answered. "Time for each of us to work with our particular talents. I’ll see you back here in two days. No later than that. There is going to be a rebellion here in about a week and I’d prefer if we weren’t caught up in it." 

"Two days," Martha agreed. 

"If anything goes wrong," the Master pointed to the Tardis key around her neck. "Get back here and lock yourself in. I’ll get here as quick as I can." 

"Right," Martha agreed and he felt his heart quicken as she gave him a brave smile. "Take care of yourself." 

"You too Martha Jones," he agreed as he gave her a hug. He tried to hide his elation until she had left the Tardis. He’d never expected his plan to go so easily or so well. The way she slept so frequently had made it easy to forge the Doctor’s diaries, snip together purloined videos from his time at Torchwood and edit it with others and then use the black hole converter to suck the Earth into the Void and blame it all on the Doctor. The poor Doctor, he thought to himself. He’ll be hunted through the galaxies for his destruction of Earth, unwelcome on most planets as himself, all trying to get back to the girl he loved trapped in an alternate universe. What was truly sad was that the Doctor would take the punishment for a crime he wouldn’t ever dare to commit and in return the Master would get what he wanted. Martha Jones, the Doctor’s companion. He’d turn her against that bleeding heart and make her his own. 


	6. Pulling the Strings (6/?)

Title - Pulling the Strings (6/?)  
Rating - PG-13 this chapter NC-17 overall   
Disclaimer - Don't I wish it were mine. Unfortunately it's not.   
 

  


Chapter Six

He knew he’d broken her two days later by the look in her eyes. They were hollow, shadow smudged and red rimmed from tears. He’d seen the news footage of course. The Doctor destroying the Earth in fire and flood with a grim countenance. Actually destroying the Racnoss, good thing too considering what a mess they were, the Master thought. Saving the Earth. The populace didn’t need to know that though. 

Her eyes were empty, broken. That told the Master one very important thing. Now was his chance to respark the life in them. To bring her back. To help her heal, just like the Doctor would but this time she would be his - not the Doctor’s. 

"Martha," he said gently and she simply stared. For a moment the Master was worried that she had broken completely with her grief. That there was no way to bring her back. He opened his arms cautiously and was reassured when she flew into them. He held her close as the sobs started to wrack her body. 

"Hush," he murmured, pulling her into the Tardis. "It’s all right. I know. Hush." 

"He destroyed everything. For her. Billions of people gone just for her." Martha cried out. "Then he didn’t even succeed did he?" 

"No," the Master answered. "He failed. The Doctor didn’t make it through the Void. He blew up your planet for no reason in the end." 

"Billions," she whispered. "Billions dead. No survivors. Thousands more are dying here from the atmospheric disturbance caused by the explosion. Shock waves caused the buildings to collapse." 

"They’ll go to war next," the Master responded. "In a few days. The government here on Humira is bankrupt and they can’t provide the things people need. They’re nothing really but a trading post after all. They’re going to revolt in a few days and it will turn bloody before the end. Thousands more will die." 

"All for her," Martha spat out bitterly. "All these people are going to die for her. What is so important about her that the world needs this kind of suffering?" 

"Nothing," the Master soothed. "I never understood what he saw in her anyway. Annoying little twit of a girl. Loud, common, vulgar. They were the same mental age though." 

"How old is that?" Martha sniffled into his shirt. 

"About five," the Master said with a grin. "She did have something you don’t have." 

"What’s that?" Martha tensed. 

"An unhealthy obsession with chips and horrid fashion sense," the Master quipped. "He’d take her to fancy parties and have to dress her up as the help. There was never any way she’d pass for a guest. Completely useless in educated company. Not like you Martha Jones. No, the Doctor would never have had to worry about Rose Tyler being seduced by the Khan. Unlike you," he added and chucked her under the chin gently. "Who got a death warrant taken out for me and caused me to leave behind rooms of treasure and gold." 

He felt her shift then and knew immediately that his plan had worked. She leaned up gently on her toes and he could feel her lips brush tentatively against his own. 

"Martha," he whispered. 

"Master," she replied. 

"We shouldn’t do this," he continued. "You’re upset and exhausted." She stepped back and looked at him then with hurt in her eyes. Something had not gone according to plan. She was supposed to appreciate his attempts at gentlemanly behavior and try to seduce him anyway. 

"I made a mistake," she said instead, coldly and the Master flinched. "I’ll be going to my room." 

"Martha," he started. 

"No," she waved a hand at him as she turned to leave the console room. "It’s my fault. I’m sorry." 

"Martha," he growled angrily and she turned. 

"No!" She snapped and he could see that she as filled with a courage born from rage and exhaustion. "No, I understand. Apparently Time Lords are only interested in blonde human women. Slightly dumb and willing to follow you anywhere on a whim. My mistake. I should remember after all that I’m your hostage. You took me prisoner." 

"Martha Jones!" He thundered and slammed his hand against the console. He felt the sharp sting of an electric current but didn’t pay attention to it. She turned to look at him and he could see the color drain from her face in fear. "I don’t want to hear this from you!" He shouted and began to pace toward her. "My hostage? How long has it been since you’ve been my hostage? Weeks? Two months? Three? You could have gone home any time! Have I stopped you? No! So don’t blame this on me!" 

He looked down and saw that she was cowering near the sofa. He was standing above her and he thought he might actually be looming. Difficult to do in this body considering it’s height but not impossible. He took a step back and tried to breathe. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. The battle would be lost if she stayed with him from fear. No, he needed to defeat the Doctor by keeping her with him by her own choice. For her to choose him and not the Doctor. For her to give her heart to him on her own, otherwise the victory was meaningless. 

She still cowered trembling next to the sofa and he flopped down to sit across from her. Pulling his knees to his chest he buried his face for a moment. He’d need to summon all his powers of persuasion for this. "I love you Martha Jones," he mumbled into his knees. 

"What?" 

"I love you Martha Jones," he mumbled again into his knees. He felt a warm finger reaching out and pressing his chin up. 

"Say that again please," she asked and he could see the tears were still welling in her eyes and threatening to spill over. 

"I. Love. You. Martha. Jones." He said suddenly. "I love you." 

"So why are you pushing me away?" She whispered. 

"You don’t want this," the Master waved a hand between the two of them in a look of calculated despair. "Us, because you love me. You want it because you’ve just seen your planet destroyed and your species turned into refugees. What you want isn’t us, it’s to forget." 

"Master," she whispered and made to move toward him. He reached out and stopped her with a hand on her arm. 

"Go to bed Martha Jones. Sleep. Tomorrow will be better. I promise." 

"Master," she whispered. 

"I promise," he repeated. 

When she woke up the next morning he was sleeping, sitting up on the sofa and she could tell from the silence that the Tardis had landed somewhere. Quietly she walked over to the screen and looked at it. She looked again and then a third time. There had to be a mistake. 

"Master," she knelt down next to him and began to shake him gently. "Master, wake up." 

"Martha," he mumbled - genuinely asleep for once. "What is it?" 

"We need to go Master," she whispered as she shook him again. "We need to go now." 

"What is it?" He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What’s wrong?" 

"You punched in the coordinates for Earth by mistake. We’re in London, about two blocks from my parents home. Two days after we left. You need to get up and we need to program the Tardis to go before someone sees us here."

"I didn’t make a mistake Martha," he said quietly and tried to clamp down on his nervousness. This newly devised bit was the only part of his plan that wasn’t entirely in his own hands. He had to give her the opportunity to go, the opportunity to walk away. If he didn’t then she’d always be his captive. The victory would be empty then. 

"Master?" She asked quietly. 

"You can go home Martha," he whispered as he kissed her cheek and his hearts clenched. "You’re not my captive. Go home to your family." 

"What about?" She started. 

"Go home Martha. See your family and then decide, on your own, what you want." 

"What about you?" She whispered as she nuzzled close to him. 

"I’ll stay parked right here, blending in. I won’t leave until you come back and tell me your decision. If you decide to come with me we’ll go. If you decide to stay just come back and tell me and I’ll leave. You don’t even have to come inside if you don’t trust me, you can tell me from the door." 

"What about the Doctor?" Martha whispered. "He could find you." 

"I guess he could," the Master shrugged. "You could tell him where I am or he could use Torchwood to trace me. That’s a chance I’ll have to take until you make your decision." 

"You’ll be in danger," she answered. 

"Don’t worry," he smiled at her and leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek. "I want you to make this decision without worrying about me. Now go see your family." 

He felt his nervousness at this part of the plan begin to evaporate as he almost had to drag her from the Tardis she was so reluctant to leave. He noticed how she clung to him at the doorway and grasped him tighter during their last hug. He had to believe she’d be back, his only hope was that it wouldn’t take her too long. He didn’t want to deal with the Doctor just yet, his plan wasn’t fully realized yet. He had a special place in mind for their next meeting and he knew exactly when he wanted it to be.


	7. Pulling the Strings (7/?)

Rating - PG-13   
Disclaimer - so not mine.   
  


  


Chapter Seven

She lasted three days with her family and the Doctor. By the third night she found herself slipping from the window of her old bedroom and out onto the street. Slowly she crept as she made her way back to the Tardis. 

"Martha!" Her mother had shrieked as she opened the front door tentatively and peaked around. The Doctor had been pacing near the French doors nervously fidgeting and Jack had been asleep in a chair with a novel over his face. She had to try her hardest not to snap at the erstwhile Time Lord. She knew he was pretending to be concerned for her parents sake and it made her sick. 

She tried not to jerk away in disgust as he pulled her into a hug. "Martha, are you all right?" He’d whispered. "He didn’t hurt you did he?" 

"No," she shook her head. "He didn’t hurt me. Mainly just locked me in my room and raved about like mad," she lied. "The Tardis isn’t letting him fly her very well, so every time he touches her there’s a nasty shock. I felt the ship jerk what I thought was last night and I woke up here a few minutes ago." 

"Is the Tardis there?" The Doctor asked eagerly. "Did he crash the Tardis and leave the two of you behind while he made an escape?" 

"He won’t get far," Jack said resolutely. "I’ll call Torchwood and let them know he’s running around somewhere in London. They’ll find him soon enough and we’ll deal with him." 

"No!" The Doctor interrupted. "He’s my responsibility now. I’ll keep him locked in the Tardis where he can’t hurt anyone." 

"Doctor!" Jack argued. "He tried to destroy the Earth." 

"He’s not here," Martha swallowed at the lie. "The Tardis isn’t here. He just dumped me and left. Neither of them are here." 

"I’m not surprised," the Doctor said. "The Master’s too clever to crash land on Earth. He probably just got bored keeping a hostage and decided to let Martha go." 

She wasn’t sure why she bristled at that comment but she did. Got bored with her? Did he really think that little of her that he thought she was unable to hold a man’s interest? The Master had wanted her to stay with him. Had let her go so that she could make the choice on her own. He’d told her he loved her. The Doctor meanwhile thought he’d let her go because she’d bored him to tears. 

Her mother had doted on her for two days. Tish had stayed close at hand and tried to talk with her. To make her open up about what she’d been through but Martha didn’t feel like lying to her and knew she couldn’t tell the truth. The Doctor alternated between generating schemes to retrieve his beloved Tardis and questioning her about the Master. Since she was dull anyway, Martha decided to live up to her reputation with him. She gave him minimal answers and soon he gave up trying. "Still traumatized Francine," she heard him tell her mother. "It will just take time." She snorted into the pillow then and tried to keep the sound muffled. 

She lasted three days before she couldn’t take being away from him anymore. She snuck out her window like a child and crept back to the Tardis. Using her key she slowly unlocked the door and tiptoed inside. He was asleep on the sofa again, she wondered for an instant if he actually had a room or if the sofa was his permanent bed. He was in the same clothes as when she left, stubble covered his cheeks and chin. She saw a pile of dirty dishes on the floor and when she stepped closer she froze in amazement. The console monitor screen was playing a seemingly unending loop of her. Martha in the purple dress she wore for their first dinner out, Martha trying diligently to pilot the Tardis and not make a mistake, Martha pulling ornaments from her hair the day they escaped the Khan, Martha laughing, Martha smiling. Every clip it showed was Martha. Not Rose, not Lucy, it was showing him his memories with Martha. 

Pulling the blanket draped over the back of the sofa down across him Martha smiled. She was making the right decision, she knew it. He wanted to change. He’d helped the people on Humira, she’d seen it with her own eyes. Harold Saxon was a miracle worker she’d heard, used his own money to provide supplies for the hospital, helped unload trucks and one patient told her he’d taken to sleeping in the camps with the refugees - short naps so that he could work longer. He’d made mistakes, she thought to herself and then reason took over. The Doctor had made mistakes, had destroyed his own people and another race, he’d told her he destroyed the Racnoss, committed genocide in a dozen different ways and always apologized for it afterwards, always acted contrite but it never stopped him from doing it again. Didn’t stop him from using the same tired excuse of necessity. 

Now wasn’t the time to think about that though, Martha reminded herself as she moved over to the console. Clicking a few buttons she found herself back to the navigational screen and quickly typed in coordinates. Looking at his dirty dishes she knew he would be aching for something decent to eat besides sandwiches. Curry sounded good, she thought and programmed them in for Calcutta circa 1885. 

Once the Tardis had slipped into the Vortex she began puttering quietly around the console room, clearing up after him. How silly am I getting, she thought, cleaning up after a man? When she reached for the pile of dirty dishes a pale hand snaked out from beneath the blankets and grabbed her wrist. "Shhh," she murmured. "It’s only me." 

He smiled then and Martha felt her breathe catch slightly at the sight. The hand tugged insistently at her wrist again and she could see his eyes filled with relief to see her. He tugged again and Martha found herself curled up on the sofa, lying so that she was pressed face to face with him as he tugged the blanket over them both. 

"You came back," he nuzzled into her hair. 

"Sorry I made you wait so long," she replied. "I couldn’t slip away before now." 

"Three days is nothing," the nuzzling continued and his arms wrapped around her back, not fondling, not groping, just holding her against his chest so that she could hear his hearts beat. "But when did you decide to come," she heard him pause for a second. "When did you decide to come back?" 

"I wanted to come home the minute you closed the door," she murmured into his chest. 

"Home?" She could see him trying out the word on his tongue. 

"Home," she agreed. 

"We should move the Tardis," he said with a sigh. "They’re going to notice your gone and come looking. Where do you want to go? Anywhere at all Martha Jones say it and it’s yours." 

"I already moved the Tardis," she tightened her grip on him. "Thought you could use something decent to eat besides bologna sandwiches." 

"Where are we going then?" He tried to snuggle closer and nudged his leg between hers, shifting slightly. 

"Calcutta, 1880’s, thought we’d get curry." 

"Sounds delicious," he whispered. "You cheated though." 

"I cheated?" Martha pulled back to look at him. "How did I cheat?" 

"It was my turn to pick where we went," the Master bit her shoulder lightly. "I think you should make it up to me." 

"I did not cheat!" Martha squirmed away from where he was now licking her collar bone. "You picked Earth, and you picked Humira so it’s you who cheated." 

"Earth doesn’t count," the Master argued and ran his hands along her back. 

"You still chose Humira. So it was my turn." Martha replied. 

"Oh all right," he sighed. " I get to choose the next two places though - they go together. So much for trying to use my cunning to get you to stay wrapped up on the sofa with me all day." 

"Fine," Martha smiled. "But in return I think you, Master, are required to stay wrapped up on the sofa with me all day." 

"An absolute bargain," the Master answered and she felt him begin nuzzling at her throat again. 

They never did make it out for curry, Martha would remember later. Luckily the goats in the pasture she’d landed them in didn’t seem to think a large blue police box was all that strange. Or if they did, Martha thought, they were polite enough not to mention it. 


	8. Pulling the Strings (8/16)

Title - Pulling the Strings (8/16)  
Rating NC-17 (Explicit Sexual Content)  
Disclaimer - So not mine. 

  


Chapter Eight

"Martha Jones," he chuckled delightedly. "You are a very, very wicked girl."  

She turned so that she was facing him in the bathing pool and then dipped slightly so that the water covered her to the collarbones. "You didn’t like my treasure hunt?" She giggled. 

"I love your treasure hunt," he countered. " I just didn’t expect to come out of the library to find a note telling me to follow the clues to find a delightful surprise." 

"It’s not a delightful surprise?" She moved further back into the bathing pool and he tugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. 

"It is," he agreed. "I just never thought I’d be following a trail of clothing through the Tardis. I was almost worried when I found your knickers in the corridor. Then I saw you’d left the door fob for me very last."

"It wouldn’t nearly as much fun with me on this side of the door and you on that," Martha giggled and then averted her eyes as he removed the last of his clothing. It had been a week since she’d come back to him and the Tardis. Chosen to come home, as both of them referred to it. He hadn’t pressed her for details on anything but had listened willingly and comforted her as she told him what had occurred, how she had felt being around the Doctor. How betrayed she was to find that he and Jack hadn’t even been looking for her. Oh they’d been trying, they had claimed, but it hadn’t changed the fact that when she arrived home months after she’d left them they were in the parlour doing nothing but pacing and sleeping. 

They hadn’t, she felt herself blushing and sunk deeper into the water. He’d been a gentleman ever since she’d come back. He’d kissed her, hugged her, held her, snuggled her, but not once had he taken that final definitive step. She’d tried every subtle hint she knew and some that were more blatant. Today she’d decided to simply quit waiting and take the initiative. You simply couldn’t be more obvious than leaving your clothes in a trail for him to follow, she thought. 

"Martha," she felt him come up behind her and then his arms wrapped around her waist. "Martha, should I go?" 

She jerked her head up suddenly and turned around to face him. Go? He wanted to go? "No," she whispered. "I don’t want you to.." 

He leaned forward then and kissed her passionately. She pressed against him and tried to register all the subtle differences between their anatomy. She fought her animalistic urge to pull back from him, he was a Time Lord, a different species, and biology had ingrained a fight or flight response that was urging her to flee. She tampered it and pressed her hips against his and deepened the kiss. 

She could feel calouses on his fingers as they stroked down her sides, tugged her off her feet and against him. She felt the water moving and knew that he was dragging her through it and toward their clothes. She felt the wall of the bathing pool against her back and his hands tightened their grip on her hips. She felt cold air then as her body broke with the surface of the water and was dazed for a moment to find him no longer in her arms. She was lying on her back with her legs still dangling over the edge into the bathing pool and then she felt a tentative kiss to her inner thigh. 

Martha couldn’t help moaning as tentative kisses moved more aggressively toward her core. She felt a pressure begin to swirl in her stomach as kisses turned to sucking and probing licks with his tongue. She arched her back as spirals of pleasure raced through her body and felt his grip tighten on her hips. His tongue became more demanding then as it lapped against her and Martha tried to find something to grip on the slick surface of the floor. 

She pressed upwards again as he started to hum as he sucked on her clit. "Master," she heard herself pant as the pleasure coursed through her. She could feel his fingers pressing into her arse as he tried to keep a steady grip on her hips while she writhed beneath him. 

"Oh please Master," she shrieked. "Please." She could feel her release building and she knew that just a touch more from him, one more hum, one more lick, and she’d explode. Instead she felt his head pull back slightly from between her thighs. 

"Say it," she heard him whisper. "Tell me." 

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him, still in the bathing pool. "I love you," she replied as she looked straight in his eyes. Martha crashed backward onto the floor as his mouth touched her skin again and the world went white around her as her entire body arched and writhed against her orgasm. 

She came too, panting a few moments later with him lying on the slick floor next to her. "Are you alive in there?" He whispered as he pulled her close. 

"I don’t know," she replied. "Am I alive?" 

"Mmm," he nipped her shoulder. "You feel alive." 

"Good," she moaned and ran her fingers up into his too short hair. "More." 

"More?" She saw his eyes widen slightly. 

"More," she confirmed. 

"Martha," she saw color rising in his cheeks. 

"What?" 

"There’s something I want to try," he caressed her hip. "If you don’t like it we can stop." 

"Sure," she agreed with a smile. 

"If you don’t like it," he repeated as he reached for his screwdriver. 

"I know," Martha answered reassuringly. "We can stop." 

She didn’t know what to expect as his right hand tangled into her hair and he started to kiss her. Suddenly it was like she wasn’t inside her own mind anymore, her own body anymore but at the same time both felt more alive to her than they ever had before. She felt something cold slide between her thighs and then touch the sensitive flesh between them. She tried not to jerk, it was better to try it first and then tell him if she didn’t like it. The cold was followed by a small electric shock and she heard herself cry out. 

"Shhh," he whispered against her mouth and his tongue entangled with hers again. 

The shock was followed by warmth and then, Martha shuddered in delight, tongues. Not just his tongue in her mouth but more tongues. Tongues and teeth and lips kissing her everywhere. Lapping gently against her clit, licking along the tender length of her folds, nibbling at the crease of her inner thighs, sucking on the back of her knees. She shivered as two identical mouths began sucking on her nipples, swirling their tongues in time across the nubs. As they began to tug more insistently she felt the wetness between her legs increase and there was a sudden - knowing - in her mind that she was enjoying those two tongues. The others faded slightly and the sensations they were causing were amplified. He was inside her mind, telepathically controlling the sensations. 

Martha groaned in delight and pressed against him. The mouths began to suck furiously now and the one between her legs began to lap more insistently as well. The fingers on her scalp tightened and suddenly another tongue was licking down the trail of her spine as she arched again. 

She wanted to scream from pleasure, wanted to beg him for release but his mouth never relinquished hers. Through everything was the insistent press of his lips against hers, his teeth against her as he anchored her to him and tangled his tongue around hers. 

The pressure in her stomach built and Martha knew her release was close again. Knew that the intensity of what he was doing would send her over the edge and into oblivion. The explosion of light and color that rioted in her brain in those final moments was entirely unexpected though. 

Martha tried to fight as sleep drug her down afterwards. She felt gentle arms cradling her and soon was carried into her bed. The silk sheets were pleasant against her skin and she rubbed herself against them contentedly as her nerves continued to spark in delight. 

"Stop it," the Master whispered as he curled up in the bed behind her. "It’s very distracting when you do that." 

"Do what?" Martha mumbled. 

"The rubbing. It’s very hard to think when you’re rubbing your body against things like that." 

"Sorry," she mumbled again before wriggling against the sheets a final time and shivered at the feel of the cloth against her sensitive nipples. 

"Go to sleep," he announced. "Tomorrow is a big day." 

"What are we doing?" 

"It’s a surprise. Now go to sleep." 

For once, Martha decided to allow him the title inherent in his name and did as he commanded. Besides, sleep sounded good anyway. 


	9. Pulling the Strings (9/16)

Title - Pulling the Strings (9/16)   
Rating - PG-13 this chapter NC-17 Overall   
Disclaimer - Still not mine. 

  


Chapter Nine

He looked down at the woman curled up next to him in the bed. Martha Jones, he thought, whatever would the Doctor say if he saw you right now? Would he cry do you think? Rage? Plead with you to see things his way? Ask you to help overthrow me? More importantly - would you do it? Would you leave with him? Walk away from me?

He sighed and wrapped an arm around her tighter. It didn’t matter what the Doctor would do. It didn’t matter what Martha would do in this instant should the Doctor arrive. The Doctor wasn’t here and he was only a few tiny steps from victory. A few precious steps and all he could wonder was if it would be better to let the Doctor know as soon as his plan was done or much later. He’d simply have to wait until the time seemed right. 

Reaching out for the dressing gown that had appeared for him he slid silently from the bed. When Martha stirred he lay a hand on her temple to silence her. One short stop to make. Then he would be one step closer to achieving the one thing he wanted most of all - the absolute destruction of the Doctor. 

In his own bathroom the Doctor jerked out of the dressing gown quickly and stepped into the shower. Oh Doctor, he smiled as he began to lather soap on his body. How silly of you to have neglected a companion like this. To have ignored her for, the Master shook his head in disbelief, Rose Tyler. 

He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Martha he didn’t understand the Doctor’s fascination with Rose Tyler. He’d seen her once and had read all the Torchwood files related to the girl - she was extraordinarily average. A chav, they had called them in London. A bad dye job and that eye makeup, he shuddered. She’d looked like a drowned raccoon. 

Martha Jones though, the Master smiled. She was a companion to take home to Gallifrey. Smart, he loved smart women - they were so much more inventive where it mattered. Sexy but she came in a package that could be oh so pulled together like a lady. Nothing chav about her, he thought to himself. A companion that even as Harold Saxon he would have been pleased to take out on his arm. Nothing loud or common or simply vulgar about Martha Jones, no she was the ideal companion for his plan. He’d have never thought of it with Rose Tyler. The Master shuddered at the thought. Time and space with a teenage shop girl? He’d rather have let the Doctor take him prisoner and try to convert him to kindness. 

Drying his hair absently, the Master dressed in another black suit. Looking in the mirror he decided that black suits fit him. Sleek lines, classic colors, it made him look pulled together with very little muss. Showed he had power, influence, and no one seemed to notice his height. 

He stopped outside Martha’s door and leaned his head against it. No sounds. No movement. She must still be sleeping. Moving silently toward the console room he swallowed silently and tried to fight the cramping in his guts. Why was he so nervous? He’d done this before after all. He wasn’t some blushing schoolboy with a child hood crush. He was a grown man. He’d done this before. 

It’s all in your head, he reasoned once the Tardis had landed at the outskirts of a small bazaar. Slipping silently out he made sure to throw the lock and hurried through the stalls. It’s psychosomatic, he reminded himself. You’re not really nervous about this you’re just telling yourself you should be and that’s why you feel like your ready to vomit. It’s not real. It’s all in your head. 

He was so wrapped up in telling himself that his problems weren’t real that he missed the stall he’d been seeking the first time through. Stopping suddenly, he doubled back and stalked toward the stall. Standing there with his hands on his hips he glared at the stall keeper. 

"Help you sir?" The man muttered quietly. 

"I’m looking for a Niczean love knot," the Master snapped. "Do you have any?" 

"Niczean love knots?" The stall keeper looked at him appraisingly. "Of course I do young man. Have some beautiful ones here. Keep them in the back." 

The Master followed the man further into the stall and deliberated over the small intricate rings lying on the black velvet. He didn’t think she’d care for the jewel incrusted ones, they seemed too fussy for Martha Jones. Setting those aside he looked at the plain metal ones and deliberated over whether she would prefer a white metal or a gold. Gold would look better on her hand, he thought. Stand out better against the creamy darkness of her finger. Finally, he settled on a gold, intricately woven love knot and another solid gold band to go with it. Tossing the man a wad of bills he walked resolutely from the stall. There was no reason to be nervous. 

"Young man," the man cried out. "Young man!" 

The Master spun around and stared at him. "What? Can’t you see I’m busy? Going to go put that ring you just sold me on someone’s finger while I still have the courage." 

"You paid me too much though," the man announced as he tried to hand some of the bills back to the Master. "You paid me far too much." 

"Keep it," he announced as he turned on his heel and marched to the Tardis. "If this works then you’ll have more than earned it!" 

Once inside the machine he programmed the coordinates again. Kyoto, he thought. She’d love the cherry blossoms in Kyoto. Meiji era, he decided. Classical Japan. He’d land them in the Imperial Gardens of Kyoto. He knew the emperor he had in mind suffered from terrible allergies and therefore no one but the gardeners were ever there. He had his perception filter that he’d developed before returning to Earth as Harold Saxon and he knew she still had hers tucked away. With the perception filters no one would notice them and then everything, everything would go just as he’d planned. 

Hitting the enter key, he marched resolutely to her door and knocked loudly on it. "Martha!" He called out. 

"Master?" He heard her sleepy mumble. "Did you lock yourself out?" 

Footsteps padded across the room. Then he heard her fingers press against the lock. "Don’t open the door," he announced. 

"Is everything all right?" She asked and he could hear the nerves in her voice. Probably confused about what happened last night, he thought. Hopefully not regretting it, he added and felt his left heart flutter. Empathically she didn’t feel as if she was regretting it. Her mind seemed to almost be humming with delight. 

"Everything’s fine." Why was his voice suddenly so high pitched he wondered? Psychosomatic, he reminded himself. All of this is psychosomatic. "Just don’t open the door. Get dressed and meet me in the console room. I have a surprise for you." 

"Sure," he heard her voice pick up. "I’ll be there in five minutes." 

"Take as long as you need," the Master replied as he leaned his head backwards and looked at the corridor ceiling. "I just have one request." 

"What’s that?" Martha giggled. 

"Wear something white," he smiled as he said it. "That’s very important. You must be wearing something white." 


	10. Pulling the Strings (10/16)

 Title - Pulling the Strings (10/16)   
Rating - PG -13  
Disclaimer - It's getting depressing to say but they still aren't mine. Everything wonderful in life belongs to the BBC and RTD  


  


Chapter Ten

 

"Wear something white," he’d told her. She didn’t have anything white. Stumbling to her closet she sighed. What was she supposed to wear if she didn’t have anything white? Opening the door she smiled. Apparently the Tardis would make sure she was taken care of, Martha thought to herself. Handy in every emergency, that was the Tardis. Even fashion emergencies. The only thing, Martha wondered, was why was it that everything the Tardis fashioned was some sort of filmy dress? No suits, no trousers and sweaters, every single white article of clothing was a dress. Oh well, she thought. A nice white sun dress always managed to look nice. Pulling out the most simple of the proffered dresses she tugged it on and leaned over the vanity to pin up her hair. Slipping into the white sandals the Tardis had provided her with, Martha swiped on a quick coat of sheer lip gloss, a quick brush of mascara and then gave the mirror a rueful grin. She wondered where he was taking her that white was a necessity. Hopefully it wouldn’t involve running for their lives, otherwise this dress was ruined. 

Stepping out of the Tardis on his arm a few moments later Martha tried to catch her breath. "Where are we?" She whispered. 

"The Japanese Imperial Gardens," the Master whispered back. "Meiji Dynasty. Don’t worry, no one ever comes here except the gardeners." 

"Why not?" Martha said as she looked around her. Everywhere cherry trees were in blossom and on the far side she could see a waterfall trickling slowly into a manmade lake teeming with orange and white koi. It was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen and she couldn’t imagine why no one would visit it. 

"It’s forbidden to everyone but the imperial family." The Master explained. "None of them use it though because the emperor has allergies. If they get pollen in their robes and get near him then his allergies flair. From what I’ve read he’s most unkind when that happens." 

"Unkind?" Martha asked. 

"He had his cousin thrown from the castle battlements," the Master clarified. 

"Right," Martha agreed. "So no one here but us and the gardeners. What do we do about them?" 

"Perception filters," the Master said with a grin as he looped one over her head. "They won’t ever know we’re here." 

"So why are we here?" Martha asked. "Sudden desire to see the cherry blossoms?" 

"I thought you might like to see them," the Master answered as he took her arm and began to stroll with her toward the drum bridge crossing the lake. "One other reason though." 

"What’s that?" Martha inquired as they stepped onto the wooden bridge and began to stroll across. At the highest point the Master stopped and stared at her. "What?" She asked with a smile. "Not going to toss me in are you?" 

"No," she watched as he took out a shaky breathe. One minute he was standing next to her holding her elbow and the next Martha was looking down at the Master on his knees at her feet. 

"Master?" She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" 

"Marry me Martha Jones," he said abruptly. 

"What?" She stuttered as he held out a gold puzzle ring. "What?!" 

"It’s a Niczean love knot," the Master explained. 

"A Niczean love knot?" Martha repeated. 

"They’re rings," the Master cocked his head to the side in a look Martha had termed awkward moment number 7. "When I give it too you everything I tell you has to be the truth. I have to mean every single thing. Otherwise the ring won’t go on your finger. If you take it, before you can put it on you have to mean everything you say to me as well. So I’m handing you this ring and I’m telling you - Martha Jones I want to marry you. You, Martha Jones are the companion I want. I want to have children with you. Not like Gallifrey where it was all crèches and looms. I want to have babies with you and be a father Martha. I want to be with you. I," he stopped and kissed the inside of her left wrist. She could see that he was almost overcome with emotion. 

"Yes," she whispered. 

"Yes?" He repeated. 

"Yes," Martha agreed. "I want all those things with you. I love you." 

She was worried the ring wouldn’t fit. That something he’d said to her was a lie. The ring wouldn’t fit and then where would they be? Instead it slid easily on her hand and she felt it tighten once it had settled at the base of her finger. He’d meant everything he’d said. 

"Does it fit?" He asked her nervously. When she nodded he leapt up and almost crushed her in the force of his hug. Her feet left the ground as he swung her in a circle. "I love you Martha Jones," he announced and she felt the ring tighten on her finger, securing it’s place. "I’m the happiest man, well the happiest Time Lord," he amended. "Either way, I’m the happiest member of my species at this very moment Martha Jones." 

"So," she asked as he began to tug her back toward the Tardis at a rapid clip. "Do we have a ceremony or something?" 

He stopped and she could see his shoulders slump slightly. "Do you want to?" He asked and she could hear the concern in his voice. "I mean there’s no one who can perform a Gallifreyan wedding. Well there is but I highly doubt he’d do it for us." 

"The Doctor," Martha stated. 

"The Doctor," the Master agreed. "I don’t think he’d be thrilled to find his companion marrying me. I don’t know if an Earth ceremony would work either. I mean you can’t exactly go home and tell your parents ‘Hello! I’m back and look who I brought with me! By the way we’re going to get married before the Doctor locks him up and takes him prisoner inside the Tardis. Don’t worry, we understand that our honeymoon is in one of the cells.’ I don’t think they’ll approve." 

"No," she whispered. "No they wouldn’t. So is this it then?" 

"Well I was hoping to tack on a honeymoon," the Master shrugged. "Other than that, well yeah." 

"What did you have in mind for a honeymoon?" Martha asked. 

"An eternity traveling through time and space in the Vortex?" He suggested. "Courtesy of Tardis Airways?" 

"Sounds lovely," Martha agreed as he pulled her inside. "The honeymoon any woman would dream of." 

"Good," the Master smiled as he leaned down to kiss her. "That’s what I was hoping you’d say." 

  



	11. Pulling the Strings (11/16)

 Title - Pulling the Strings (11/16)  
Rating - NC-17 explicit sex.   
Disclaimer - Not mine, not making a profit, never will, everything and everyone belong to BBC and RTD  


  


Chapter Eleven

The Master closed his eyes and grinned. Married life was good. He’d always liked married life, never understood why the Doctor had shied away from it like he had. Maybe he didn’t realize how good marriage could be? 

He let a small groan escape his lips as Martha’s mouth began to tug more insistently at his cock. That tongue, he shivered in delight as she ran it across the tip again and resumed sucking enthusiastically. He’d once dreamed about cutting that tongue out of her mouth but now, now he was so very glad he’d let her keep it. 

"Martha," he managed to pant. This was the part about marriage he loved. The one thing that wasn’t fake, he never bothered making it fake he reminded himself, never needed to. Sexy and clever, he thought to himself, this is your reward for having high standards in companions. Sexy and clever. 

"Hmm?" She hummed and he felt his hips buck involuntarily against the vibrations. 

"Come here, NOW." 

"But," she murmured against his heated flesh and began to plant delicate kisses. "I’m having so much fun making you squirm." 

"Martha," he moaned again. "Don’t make me be mean right now. Just be a good girl and come here." 

"You’re going to be mean?" She flashed him a naughty smile and raised up on her elbows at his waist. 

"Vicious," he assured her as he swooped down from his reclining position against the headboard to grab her and haul her up the length of his body. He could feel her nipples stiffen as they dragged across his chest and he pressed her against him. "Unless you turn me into a quivering ball of jellied Time Lord first." 

"What happens then?" She giggled. 

"I punish you when I’m my self again," he agreed and smacked her lightly on the arse. "Thoroughly." 

"Not much incentive to be good is there?" She teased and he took the lull to attempt rolling her onto her back. He was surprised when her hands pushed against his shoulders, pressing him to the mattress. "My turn," she giggled and he felt warm, wetness surround his cock tightly. 

He pressed up demandingly then as she ran her hands up his chest and began to tease him. She began grinding her hips insistently against his and the Master reached out to hold firmly onto them. When he’d relaxed into her movements the Master left his left hand clenching her hip as the right began to roam the length of her body. Up the length of her side, along the slight flare of her abdomen, along the ribs. Gently he brushed his fingers against the underside of her breast and heard her gasp. Sensitive there, he remembered from the day before and smiled. He let his thumb brush across her nipple gently and felt her clench around him as she threw her head back and moaned. He brushed across it again and felt her body tighten again like clockwork. 

What she was doing, how she was moving, it made snakes curl up the length of his legs and into the pit of his stomach. Coils of desire writhing inside him to the sound of the drums. He brought his hand back down to her hip and began to move in rhythm with her, trying to make her body’s movements match the sound of the drums. 

She was panting now, holding tight to his shoulders as her hips began to twitch and he knew she was coming. He could tell she was coming but it wasn’t the same. He reached out and caught one of her temples in each hand, pressing a fingertip against them. She didn’t fight, she didn’t pull away, instead she lowered her head slightly so he could reach his other fingers into her scalp and hold it tighter. 

He linked telepathically with her and could immediately feel the sensations of her orgasm in his own mind. The feeling that she was so close, so very, very close and if he’d just shift slightly. The Master moved his hips up against hers and angled slightly to the right. Just there, he knew from inside her mind. Just there and she’d be. 

"OH MY GOD!" Martha screamed and he felt her distantly convulsing on his cock. He was lost to the physical sensation of her orgasm though because he was so overwhelmed to be inside her mind. Yesterday it had been fragmented - colors, shapes, sensations, relief. Today, today had been different though. Today the image in her mind was him. Not the Doctor, some self conscious part of him had expected it at least a little, him, the Master, down on his knees in front of her. 

Damn he was handsome, he thought suddenly. Did the light really shine off of him that way? Was his smile really that brilliant? Did he really have that hypnotic of an effect on people? He hadn’t used hypnosis on her, well not much any way. It smelled like cherry blossoms inside her mind in that moment but it tasted like jelly babies. 

He let go of her temples for a moment and just stared at the panting, sweat soaked woman on top of him. It hadn’t been like this before, with the others. Lucy’s brain had been like looking around inside a carnival; brightly coloured, loud, and deranged enough to even scare him. Martha’s though, he let his hands shift to her hips, her mind was entirely different. 

Moving quickly he flung her onto her back without sliding out of her first. He kissed her eyelids as she gasped in delight, tugging her bent legs up to wrap them around his waist. Lacing his fingers back into her hair, he fell head first into those large brown eyes of hers, head first into the safety of her mind. 

"I love you," her mind reverberated around him as he thrust inside of her eagerly. The cherry blossoms scent was growing stronger, the taste of jelly babies sweeter, as he gasped and sucked at her neck and tightened his fingers in her hair. "I love you," her mind screamed again as he began to jerk his hips spastically then and the world of her mind shattered around him. His mind shattered and he lay there clutching her, crying like a child into her neck. 

She was running fingers through his hair when he noticed it. They were gone. Propping up on his forearms he looked at her. She wasn’t clutching her head, she wasn’t in pain, she didn’t look mad. They were gone though. He’d lost them. "Martha," he whispered as he looked at her in delight. "Do you hear them? Are they in your mind now instead of mine? Did you take them away?" 

"Did I take what away?" She said with a sleepy smile. 

They weren’t inside her, he thought to himself. If they were there would be no way she’d look so contented. They were simply gone. They were, his eyes widened and he pulled out of her gently. "Go to sleep my love," he murmured as he pulled the blankets over them and drew her close. "You need your sleep." 

"What about you?" She yawned. 

"Staying right here," he confirmed. "Holding you." 

He lay there for hours while she slept, holding her, cradling her, listening to the quiet sounds she made in her sleep. Mainly he just listened to the silence though. The blessed, beautiful silence of the room. The silence of his brain without drums. 

He looked around the room once, enjoying the silence of the Tardis. The faint hum of her motors in the Vortex that he’d never heard before due to the cacophony inside his mind. That’s when he spied the nearby door. The door which hadn’t been there a few hours earlier. The new addition to her, their he corrected, rooms. Smiling to himself he reached down to press his hand against her stomach. 

"You just confirming it for me then?" He asked quietly to the room. "You knew what I was doing yesterday with the screwdriver and didn’t even try to stop me. Knew I was stimulating her ovaries to make her more fertile. Probably amplified the dosage and the charge as well. Didn’t you?" 

When the ship hummed the Master smiled. "Good work," he crooned. "Very, very good work." With that he shifted so that he was lying more comfortably against her and let his left hand slide down to caress the area just above her pelvis. There they were, he thought to himself. That’s where they’ve gone. They were no longer drums though. Against his fingertips he could feel them. Da, da, da, dum, four tiny little Time Lord flickers. They were no longer drums, now they were heartbeats. 


	12. Pulling the Strings (12/16)

Title - Pulling the Strings (12/16)  
Rating - PG-13   
Disclaimer -  Not mine, never was, never shall be.   
  


  


Chapter Twelve

It had been easy to manipulate Martha Jones, he smiled to himself. Martha Saxon she was called whenever they stopped somewhere that required names. His wife. His beautiful, intelligent, sexy, he wrapped an arm around her waist and she pressed back against him in her sleep, wife. His wife that he’d stolen from another Time Lord. The companion he’d taken from right underneath the Doctor’s nose. 

I win, he smiled at the thought. I win Doctor. Wherever you are, trapped, desperately trying to find a way off Earth, just know this - I win. I’ve taken your companion. She’s not just my companion now - she’s my wife. My heavily pregnant wife, he reminded himself. Oh yes, his smile broadened then. I’m going to be a father Doctor. Soon, very, very soon, I’ll be holding another Time Lord in my arms while you continue to wander all alone. Possibly two, he thought, from the fact that he felt four heartbeats every time he touched her stomach. It could be an echo due to placement or it could be twins, they were still a month or so from being able to telepathically link so he could know for sure. Twin Time Lords. While the Doctor wandered with no one but the Freak, the Master would be nurturing the next generation of their species. 

I’ve taken your Tardis as well, he thought. I’ve taken your freedom to roam amongst the planets. Left you stuck on the Earth. You’ll escape, I have no doubt in that. The first ships to leave for colonies will have the Doctor on it but how long will that take? How will you cope until then? A Time Lord trapped for two centuries until the race he’s been cast among finally reaches it’s potential. Would he still love the humans after this? The Master doubted it. 

She doesn’t want to come back to you, his inner monologue snickered. Martha hasn’t wanted to go back to you for a long time but the Tardis, she doesn’t want you anymore either. She was resistant to me for a while, it took everything to keep this ship under control while my plan hatched. But once Martha was pregnant, his inner monologue was gloating now and he let it. Oh once she was pregnant the old girl was on cloud nine. Didn’t you realize how much your Tardis was craving that? A family? Children? She so wanted to be part of a home. Once Martha was pregnant the Tardis was more than happy to keep me around. It seems Time Lord children were enough of an incentive for her to forget about you. 

I win Doctor. I have your Tardis, your companion and now, now I have your future. Oh you may have won the Earth, he conceded generously in his mind. I hope you enjoy being trapped there. I hope it was worth it. You lost everything to me to save one tiny, insignifigant planet. You gave all of it to me. Handed it to me on a silver platter. You know what I did then? I blew that planet up anyway. Then I blamed it on you. Or I guess in your time line I will blow it up and then blame it on you. Either way - I win. 


	13. Pulling the Strings (13/16)

Title - Pulling the Strings (13/16)  
Rating - Hard R (some naughty language but nothing happens)  
Disclaimer - Not mine, Everything belongs to BBC and RTD  
  


  


Chapter Thirteen

He didn’t let her bathe alone anymore, she thought as she massaged the shampoo into her hair. Worried she would pass out inside the bathing pool from the heat and drown. She didn’t much care for the bathing pool anymore regardless, the four steps in and out of it were just too much work now that she was so heavy. The shower was so much easier. 

She rinsed her hair out and let her fingers trail down to his head. She stroked his wet hair lovingly. He looked up at her from where he was kneeling at her feet with a stupid grin. He pressed another kiss to each side of her abdomen. "That’s where their heads are," he’d told her earlier. "They’ve been arguing and now they’re facing apart to sulk." She’d just laughed at his silliness. She didn’t know if she believed him or not. She knew he was talking to the babies but she had a hard time believing that telepathically they were talking to him. 

"You’re beautiful," he whispered now inside the shower and twined his arms around her legs. "So very, very beautiful." 

"I’m enormous," she replied as she turned off the water. 

"Beautiful," he insisted as he let his head dip lower between her legs and left a lingering kiss on her inner thigh. "And I can’t wait for our children to be born." 

"You’re excited?" She asked hopefully. He’d always seemed excited about the idea. Even when she’d been panicked at first he’d always been excited about it. Overjoyed. 

"That too," he whispered as he stood up carefully and pressed up against her. "Right now though," he leaned in to nibble on her neck. "It’s you I’m more excited about. All that wet skin. I keep having dreams about you," he confessed as he pressed his cock into her thigh. 

"Dreams?" She inquired. 

"Naughty dreams." He answered as he wrapped a towel around her. "All about where I’m going to take you once the children are born and you’ve recovered. All the things I want to do to you." 

"Tell me about these dreams," she smiled. "Maybe they’re similar to mine." 

"I certainly hope so. "Because in my dream you are having a very, very good time." 

She sat smiling in bed later as he brought in a tray. Hot cocoa for her to drink before bed. Every night. Biscuits usually in case she was hungry. One more consultation with the console before bed and then he’d make them a snack and bring it to bed. Something to tide her and the babies over until morning. 

"Have you decided where you want to have them yet?" He asked as he handed her the warm cup and then slid into bed beside her. 

"New Earth I think," Martha answered. "You said it was the best place for us when the time came. Why?" 

"It is," the Master agreed. "I just thought you might want to do it on Earth. London even. Your family there." 

"My family?" She repeated. "Master you’re still wanted for high treason. Murder. We can’t have the children on Earth. They’d arrest you." 

"I could wear a perception filter," he shrugged. "They’d never know I was in the room. You could have your mother with you if you wanted." 

"No," she said firmly. "No." 

"Martha." 

"No," she let her voice snap. "I don’t want you hiding in the corner with a perception filter on. These are your children and I want you to be there the whole time. I want to hold your hand and scream that it’s all your fault and that you did this to me. I can’t do that if you’re hiding like some criminal in the corner. We’re having the babies on New Earth and that’s final." 

"You’re sure?" He asked. "You don’t want your mother there?" 

"I want you," she answered. "Just you." 

"Good," he replied. "Not about your mother. About New Earth. That was going to be my next suggestion if you really wanted her there. The medicine is so much more advanced on New Earth. All three of you will be better taken care of. Less risks for all of you." 

"That’s all that matters," Martha smiled at him. She felt the babies shift then and squirmed slightly. Just like them, the minute she got comfortable they had to go and sit on her bladder. Now she’d have to get up to use the toilet again. That moment she felt something cold running down her leg and blushed with embarrassment. A searing pain tore through her stomach then and Martha realized that she hadn’t wet herself like she’d feared. 

"Martha?" He was looking at her concerned now. "What is it?" 

"Master," she smiled. "I think you should go program in New Earth."

"But," he stuttered. 

"Master," she repeated as another pain hit her. "It’s time." 


	14. Pulling the Strings (14/16)

Title - Pulling the Strings (14/16)  
Rating - R (language)   
Disclaimer - not mine 

  


****  


Chapter Fourteen

  
**  
  
**   


 

"They aren’t supposed to be this close together," she muttered between gritted teeth. "It’s really supposed to take longer." 

"Maybe not," he’d suggested as he helped her from the bed. "Maybe it’s different with Time Lord births?" 

"You don’t know?" She’d snarled then as she doubled over at another contraction. 

"I told you," he answered nervously. "We didn’t do live birth on Gallifrey. Everyone was born in creche’s. Loomed." 

"Loomed," she spat out. "You mean you’re all test tube babies?" 

"Well in a very primitive sense," he squeaked. "Maybe this is why we switched?" 

"You think?!" He could see that her teeth were bared in pain and they were barely making any progress toward the hospital because the contractions were so close together. 

"Oh sod this," he muttered to himself as he leaned down to pick her up off her feet. "Come on, I’ll carry you." 

"Just got to know," she panted as they stepped out of the Tardis in front of New New York University Hospital. "What did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

He was about to reply when her head slumped back over his left arm and he felt a sticky wetness on his right. Looking down he could see red blotches soaking through the sleeve of the dress shirt he’d hurriedly thrown on. "Oh fuck," he growled. "Oh bloody hell." 

Pushing his way into the emergency room he looked around anxiously. "Sir," one of the cat nuns came forward. 

"My wife," he could hear the panic in his own voice then. "She needs help. Please." 

The cat nun had pursed her lips then knowingly and motioned with one of her paws toward an orderly. A stretcher was next to him before the Master could even react. 

"Species of the mother?" The cat nun asked as he followed her and the orderly down the corridor. 

"Human," the Master answered. 

"Father?" She cast an appraising eye over him. 

"Time Lord." 

"I see," she nodded. "How far is she from her due date?" 

"Three weeks give or take. They’re twins. She’s having twins." 

"Right Mr.?" 

"Saxon," he answered. "Harold Saxon." 

"Fine Mr. Saxon," she turned to look at him as they pushed past a swinging door. "Stay here, I’ll send a sister out as soon as we know something." 

"What?" He snapped. "I’m not leaving her. She’s my wife!" 

"Stay here!" She ordered him again and with the look on her face he decided it was best not to argue right now. He’d simply have to deal with her later. 

He’d been pacing ever since. The waiting room was 15 paces wide by 33 paces long. That meant each pace around the room allowed him to take 96 steps. An even number so that every circle he stayed on exactly the same foot for each even step and odd step. He alternated which foot he pivoted on to turn corners. He could pace the room once a minute. In four hours he had paced the room 240 times. 23,040 steps. 

"Mr. Saxon?" A small, pear shaped tabby peaked her head in the room. 

"That’s me," he answered nervously. "Is everything?" 

"Mrs. Saxon is going to be fine," she assured him. "She’s sleeping now but you can go in if you like." 

He sat down heavily then. Mrs.Saxon was fine she told him. Martha was sleeping. He felt dread knotting in his chest though. Mrs. Saxon was fine, Mr. Saxon was fine except for a ruined shirt and frazzled nerves. What she wasn’t telling him about was the little Saxons.

"Mr. Saxon?" The tabby laid a paw on his shoulder. "Mr. Saxon are you listening to me?" 

"Hmm?" He swallowed around the lump in his respiratory by pass and looked at her. 

"I said as soon as Mother Superior Felicia is done with their check up you can see your children Mr. Saxon. We don’t wish to disturb you but Mother Superior is trying to be as thorough as possible. Mixed species children often require more tests and well, Mr. Saxon," she smiled at him then. "Seeing that your species is, how should I say?" 

"Almost extinct?" He shrugged. "Just me and the socially inept idiot who I wouldn’t breed with if you outfitted him with a womb and we really were the only thing to save our species?" 

"Well," she smiled ruefully then. "I was going to say limited in number but I think your description fits as well. Considering that it’s just you and the idiot, as you phrased it, well she wants to be even more thorough still." 

"I can see them though?" He asked her excitedly. "As soon as she’s finished? This Mother Superior? Once she’s finished I can see them?" 

"Of course Mr. Saxon," the nun replied. "Take a left out of the waiting room, through two sets of double doors, then turn right and about half way down the corridor you’ll find the nursery." She reached out then and placed a cool metal bracelet around his wrist, that magnetically locked into place. 

"What’s this?" He raised an eyebrow. There weren’t any warrants out for him on New Earth. He wasn’t wanted here. There was no way he could be wanted any longer for crimes on Earth. What exactly was this damn cat doing?

"It’s your security bracelet Mr. Saxon," she explained. "It has your children’s serial number on it. When you get to the nursery, knock on the door, show them your bracelet and they’ll allow you to hold your children. Don’t worry Mr. Saxon, it’s just a precaution to keep everyone safe. Especially the children." 

"Safe," he repeated. "Right, of course. You’re just keeping everyone safe." 

"Take a left out of the waiting room, through two sets of double doors, then turn right and about half way down the corridor you’ll find the nursery." She repeated. "When you’re done there your wife’s room is number 817. It’s just two doors down from the nursery and on the left." 

"817," he muttered. "She’s in 817 and the children are in the nursery." 

"Congratulations Mr. Saxon," she said as she left the room. 

"Thank you," he answered. 

The Master paced the corridor outside the nursery silently. What was he going to do now? He hadn’t stuck to the original plan. He’d stalled on it. Had told himself he had plenty of time. He knew he’d been avoiding the next step, telling himself that they had weeks yet. Weeks before he’d need to parade her in front of the Doctor and gloat. Weeks before they landed on New Earth and she gave birth. Weeks before he’d snatch the children from her and leave her on that colony to rot. Weeks, he’d told himself every time he thought about it, every time he berated himself for going soft. You have weeks. 

Except he hadn’t had weeks. He’d put it off and put it off and now the children were here. He hadn’t lorded it over the Doctor yet and they were already born. He couldn’t leave her yet. 

"Don’t be ridiculous," he argued with himself. "You’re the Master. She’s an Earthling, an ape." 

"She’s your wife," another part of his mind answered. 

"Please," the part he liked to think of as rational sneered. "Why should that matter? She’s served her purpose." 

"You love her," the part he was considering nicknaming the Doctor answered. 

"Love?" Rationality laughed. "We are the Master, we don’t love. We revel in chaos and destruction. We conquer the universe and laugh to the beating of the drums." 

"The drums are gone," the sappy, emotional part answered and the Master found himself cheering the kicking Rationality took at that. "And you love her." 

"You do not!" Rationality raged and the Master promptly gagged him, beat him with a mental stick and tossed him into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. A black cat with white paws and beard was carrying two infants toward the window and smiling. One pink blanket and one blue. 

The Master felt his hearts contract slightly at the sight of the tiny bundles she was cradling for him to see. Time Lord children. A female Time Lord child. A chance to build something that had been lost. His children. Forget the rest of his species, the tired, pretentious bastards. They were his children. Something that was never supposed to happen. Time Lords parented communally. The children belonged to everyone and everyone parented the children. These though, they were his. Not a duty to be burdened with when assigned. His children. His wife. 

He smiled determinedly then. Forget the original plan, he thought. This could work even better than before. He could still destroy the Doctor. He could destroy the Doctor even better now and it would be an even greater triumph. That’s what he was doing, he reasoned. He hadn’t fallen victim to weakness because of a gorgeous, intelligent, sexy Earthling and a couple of bundled up babies. It was an even greater chance to destroy the Doctor. He kept telling himself that but it didn’t change the way his hearts sped up as one of the cats opened the nursery door. 

It took far longer than he’d expected to get to New Earth, the Master thought as he paced the waiting room of the hospital. He’d been so nervous he’d programmed the Tardis wrong twice. It had taken three jumps to get her to New New York and into a hospital. By then she’d seemed extremely worried.  


	15. Pulling the Strings (15/16)

Title - Pulling the Strings (15/16)   
Rating - PG-13  
Disclaimer - Never going to be mine. I'm not even British after all. 

  


Chapter Fifteen

"Tickle, tickle tickle. Get the toes," he heard clearly in his mind. "Get ‘em, get ‘em, get ‘em." The voice squealed again and he felt a sharp mental cry reverberate. 

"Tish," he growled mentally at his six month old daughter. The giggling stopped. "Quit teasing Leo." He closed his eyes and curled up tighter around Martha’s back. Kids, he thought wearily to himself and prepared to fall back asleep. They could barely crawl and already they were making enough mischief to wear him out. He thought he might have lost a regeneration during their first session teething. 

The telepathic link was silent and then he heard in a whisper "tickle, tickle, tickle. Get the daddy." That’s when he felt the tiny fingers telepathically tickling his toes. He could strangle Martha for teaching her that game. 

Climbing out of bed he stomped into the nursery to stare at his wayward oldest child. "Tish," he announced telepathically and let displeasure radiate down the link between them. He was the Master, conqueror of the Earth, scurge of several galaxies and he was not about to let a six month old Time Lord infant ruin his sleep because she was testing her telepathic abilities. She shrieked in delight and he could hear her humming through the link. Pleased with herself. 

"Daddy’s girl," he muttered out loud and watched as she began to reach for him. He shifted slightly and looked at her. "You realize who I am right?" He asked her. "What I do?" 

He watched as Tish kicked out of her blankets and waved her chubby fists enthusiastically. "I’ve got a reputation to uphold you know?" He asked her as he bundled her back in the pink blanket and lifted her from the baby bed. 

Adjusting her in his arms the Master looked down at his daughter. "I’m a super villain. Not just a regular villain mind you, I’m the best there is. Conquered your mother’s world and all." She blew bubbles at him and squirmed. "You couldn’t care less could you?" He asked her. "Not a bit." 

He made his way to the rocking chair the Tardis had outfitted in the nursery once the twins were born. He’d never sat in it before, Martha used it to feed the children and rock them to sleep. He was the Master and he didn’t do those things. Well occasionally, he amended. He might hold one of them while she fed the other and got them ready for bed. He walked them though, wandered the console room and explained how to fly a Tardis or talked about places they’d visit when they were a bit older. He didn’t rock in a chair. 

It was comfortable he thought, sitting down. More comfortable than he’d expected. No one could see him, he reasoned, it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a while until she fell asleep. Besides, it might wake Martha if he was pacing in here. She didn’t get enough sleep. Not that he was concerned about her sleeping, no, it was just he liked finally getting some solitude like he had when she’d first came into the Tardis with him. Quiet, peaceful, time to hatch evil schemes and plan revenge on the Doctor. 

He pushed gently against the floor with his feet and started the chair in a steady rhythm, pulling Tish a little closer to his chest as he did so. "You are not to tell anybody we did this," he warned her. "No one. If you tell them I’ll deny it and then kill all the witnesses. You got that? We never did this."

Her eyes were sliding closed and he smiled as she got noticeably heavier in his arms. "Knew I could trust you to keep quiet," he added. "Probably couldn’t trust your brother Leo. He’s more like your mum. You," he watched as she fell into a deeper sleep. "You’re like me. Got an evil streak in you, I can see it. Been tormenting your brother since you were barely a day old. Testing that telepathic link. Just like me," he whispered. "Before you know it you’ll be taking over planets all on your own. We can do it together if you want. Good bonding experience. Master/ daughter time. Blow up a few planets and then we’ll go somewhere nice and have a picnic just you and me? How about New Earth?" He suggested. "There’s some empty, useless planets there. Uninhabitable I think for your first time. Better to get a practice run before you start blowing up other species. There’s," he looked upward and counted. "Four planets nearby that are uninhabited and a sun. How could I forget about that sun? Utterly useless sun. No one to appreciate it. We could collapse that last. Something pretty for your mummy to watch while we have our picnic. What do you think?" He looked down and noticed that she was sound asleep now. If he was very careful he could move her back into her baby bed without waking her. He’d wait a few more minutes, if she wasn’t sound asleep he’d spend another hour trying to get her calmed down again and she could wake Leo. Then he’d have two crying babies to keep quiet while he thought about his evil schemes. 

"We’ll plan it all when you’re a little older. Blowing up planets really requires you to be walking first," he mumbled and felt his eyes drift closed. 

The next morning he stared at Martha over the breakfast table as she alternated between feeding Tish and Leo. "I did not fall asleep cuddling Tish," he announced. 

"Of course not," she agreed. "I’m sure she jumped into your arms and forced you into a short coma. Overpowered you." 

"That sounds worse," he answered. "I was just keeping her quiet so she wouldn’t torment Leo. We all needed our sleep." 

"Sure," Martha agreed and handed him a baby spoon and a bowl of something that looked strangely unappetizing. He sat down in front of his son and brought the spoon toward his mouth. 

"I’m still the Master," he announced sullenly. 

"Of course you are," she agreed. 

"A villain," he continued. "I was Prime Minister of Britain." 

"Don’t remind me," she answered before pushing another spoonful of cereal into Tish’s mouth. "I got a round the world hiking trip because of you." 

"See?" He smiled. "Villain. Me. I do not cuddle things. I am the Master." 

"You’re a villain," Martha nodded. "A scary one too. Very effective. Devilishly sexy villain in those black suits you used to wear. Made it hard for a girl to fight for the resistance." 

"Really?" He asked and looked down at the faded t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. He’d given up on the suits when Leo had ruined all of his button downs during one day’s bout with colic. Maybe he should revert back? He certainly looked sharper before the twins were born. Perhaps, it would help her remember that he was the Master. The Master. Not someone who fell asleep in a rocking chair, cuddling his daughter. 

"Really," Martha agreed. "Most handsome crazed meglomaniac I’ve ever seen." 

"As long as we’re clear on who I am," he nodded. 

"That’s right," he continued as he fed Tish the last bit of cereal. "I am the Master. And right now I’m going to plan something particularly vicious to make sure you don’t forget it." 

"Right," Martha agreed. "That’s after you watch the children so I can have my final check up with Mother Superior Felicia this morning?" 

"But," the Master looked at her and felt his mouth working silently. 

"You agreed remember?" Martha prompted. 

"But." 

"So I need a bath to get cleaned up before I go." Martha smiled and stood up from the table. "Since it’s just you and the twins you wouldn’t mind doing a few loads of laundry would you? The twin’s sleepers are in the dryer now. If you could fold those and then maybe start another load or two?" 

"But," he knew he was losing ground. "I’m the Master." 

"That you are," she agreed as she leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. "That’s how I know you’ll have everything under control when I get back." 

He wanted to say something then. To stop her. He reached for his laser screwdriver. Just a little zap to remind her who was boss. It wasn’t in his pocket. That’s right, he remembered, I put it up so the kids couldn’t get a hold of it. By the time he turned back around she had left the kitchen and he was stuck looking at his children. 

"All right," he sighed and looked at them. "First rule is this - you will never, ever tell a soul about this!" He tried not to be disheartened when his children began to shriek with laughter and wave their fists in delight. 


	16. Pulling the Strings (16/16)

Title - Pulling the Strings (16/16)   
Rating - PG-13   
Disclaimer - Still not mine. 

  


Chapter Sixteen

He was looking for a toaster when he saw her. The one in his and Jack’s flat had burnt out. They needed a toaster. He needed a toaster. He wasn’t going to survive on this planet without toast. Then he’d seen her on the lift going toward the upper floors of the department store. Except it couldn’t be her.  

It was her though, he thought. Even if it was impossible he knew it was her. The woman he’d seen was Martha Jones. It couldn’t be anyone else. He had seen Martha Jones. Except it couldn’t be Martha Jones. Martha Jones had disappeared one night five years ago in London. She’d escaped from the Master and was sleeping in her own bed and then the next morning she was gone. No signs of her. No note. Nothing except her red leather jacket slung over a chair to even show she’d been there. 

Five years. Francine had been heartbroken. Five years without a trace. He’d been certain she was dead. Certain the Master had somehow gotten to her. Five years he’d been trapped on this planet after the Year That Never Was. Five years she’d been gone. There was no way that the woman on those escalators could be Martha Jones but as he walked resolutely toward them he knew that it was. That woman was Martha Jones and he wanted to know desperately where she’d been for five years, what she was doing in Cardiff and how exactly she’d ended up so heavily pregnant. Not how, he amended, he knew how but by whom was the question. It wasn’t him and very jealously he wanted to know exactly who he needed to zap into sterility with the screwdriver.

He stalked her through the aisles of the department store. Crept stealthily around so that he could see her face without her noticing. He felt his breath catch and both his hearts begin to beat rapidly. It was Martha. Stepping out from behind a rack he looked at her. There was no mistake - it was Martha. 

"Martha?" He asked gently. He didn’t want to scare her. What if the Master had erased her memories and she didn’t understand what was going on? What if, the Doctor shook his head. Best not to think of the possibilities. She recoiled at the sight of him. 

"Martha," he repeated. "Do you know who I am?" 

"You’re the Doctor," she replied evenly. "Now go away and leave me alone." 

"You know who I am," he smiled. "That’s a start. Do you know where you’re from?" 

"London, 21st Century. I was a medical student before I started traveling with you. Then the Year that Never Was happened." 

"Right. You know who you are and where you are. That’s good." 

"Thank you," she snapped and he could see that she was backing up away from him. 

"Martha," he shook his head. "What happened? Where did you go? You just disappeared one night. It’s been five years and you’re," he waved at her stomach and raised his eyebrows. "What happened? Everyone’s been worried sick about you." 

"I’m sorry for that," he noticed that she looked down. "I thought about calling so many times. Of trying to explain to Mum and Dad and Tish and Leo. To let them know I was fine. I just didn’t," he noticed she was looking around now. Looking for someone. He wondered if whoever the father of her baby was, if he was nearby. If he was looking for her. " I just didn’t know what to say." 

The Doctor was so busy staring in disbelief at Martha Jones, alive and standing in front of him, that he hadn’t noticed the man walk up behind her. A pale hand rested on her shoulder and then he heard a familiar voice. "Darling?" The voice attached to the hand asked. "Is everything all right?" 

"Everything’s fine," he heard her purr and lean back against the man. "I was just talking with the Doctor. We ran in to each other." 

"Right," the Doctor raised his eyes and met the smirking ones of the Master. "He just managed to run into you?" 

"Master," he managed to stutter.

"Doctor," the other man inclined his head. "If you’ll excuse my wife she looks tired and in her condition." The Doctor clenched his fist as the Master leaned down to kiss Martha on the cheek. Only then did he notice the pram the other man had been pushing. "Darling, why don’t you go to the cafe with Leo and Tish for a cup of tea and a rest? They’re both sleeping and you look dead on your feet." 

"What about you?" The Doctor heard her ask and felt his hearts clenching. It was their pram. He’d called Martha his wife. They were married and that pram held children and she was carrying another. He couldn’t breathe. The room seemed to be spinning. It was all too much. It wasn’t right. It was all a horrible dream and any minute he’d wake up to find that the toaster worked and he was still asleep in bed and listening to Jack snore through the too thin walls that separated their rooms. 

"I’ll be along in a moment. Best if I talk with the Doctor a bit first." The other man was rubbing a hand lingeringly over her stomach and then cast a glance at the pram. The Doctor’s eyes followed as well. There were dangling feet hanging from the seats of the pram. Children. They had children. Time Lord children if they were fathered by the Master. There were more Time Lords. There were more Time Lords and they were the children of the Master. 

"It seems you upset my wife," the other Time Lord sneered. 

"I don’t understand," the Doctor whispered. "Martha is your wife?" 

"She is," the Master confirmed. "Mother of our children as well. Tish and Leo. Twin terrors, I like to call them. They’ll be two in January. The next one is due this March. Only two heart beats this time, shame, I was hoping for another set of twins. Maybe next time though huh?" 

"You have children?" the Doctor’s mouth hung open. "Time Lord children?" 

"Time Lord children," the Master grinned wickedly. "Healthy Time Lord children. The Tardis is ecstatic. I’ve never seen the old girl so happy, she purrs all the time." 

"The Tardis?" 

"The Tardis," the Master smiled vengefully at him. "So I guess there’s only one thing left to tell you Doctor." 

"But," he was trying to come to grips with it. 

The Master stepped close to him. "I win," he whispered to the Doctor. "Your ship now houses my family. Your beautiful companion is now my beautiful wife. Mother of my children. My children Doctor. I win. You lose. You wanted the Earth so bad I’ll let you have it. I’ll keep the Tardis, Martha and the children instead. Enjoy Doctor." 

"I don’t understand," he said frantically. "You’ve hypnotized her! You’re controlling her mind somehow. Blood control? What?" 

"I didn’t have to control her," the Master chuckled. "All I had to do was all the things you didn’t. I let her know she wasn’t second best compared to Rose. After that, everything else was simple." 

"But," the Doctor stuttered as the other Time Lord simply stood and stared at him. He’d married Martha. They had children. Time Lord children. The Tardis was their home. He’d married Martha. All it had taken was proving that she wasn’t second best compared to Rose. She’d married the Master because, he felt his stomach churn. 

"Well," the Master patted him familiarly on the shoulder. "Time for me to fetch the wife. She’ll be tired I expect. This far along she gets tired a lot you know. Wait, you wouldn’t know would you? You’re stuck with the Freak for company. Probably better, fewer ice cream cravings. Anyway, time for us to go. We try not to visit 21st century Earth too much, worries I’ll be recognized and brought in as Public Enemy #1. Martha wanted to get a few odds and ends for when the baby comes. You know how women are. Never mind though. Good to see you. No hard feelings for destroying my carefully wrought plan to take over the Earth." 

He was still staring dumbstruck as the Master sauntered away with his hands in his trouser pockets. He watched as the other Time Lord suddenly turned around and gave him a wicked smile. "Thank you by the way," the Master called out. "It’s not very often someone hands you everything you could ever ask for all neatly wrapped up. You even gave me the courtesy of a nice, pretty bow. Rose colored, I’d say. Not my personal favorite but it certainly suited. I win." 

He stormed after the Master then, grabbing him by the coat collar. "What have you done to Martha?" He hissed. 

"Done?" The Master raised an eyebrow and smiled as he Doctor shoved him into an empty corridor near the lifts. "I knew you were naive Doctor but really! I thought you’d know the mechanics by now. Or are you just being disgusting?" 

"Tell me it’s hypnosis," the Doctor pleaded. "Tell me it’s not, you didn’t. Tell me it’s hypnosis." 

"Not hypnosis," the Master shook his head. "And frankly Doctor, I’m hurt. I mean truly wounded. To think such things of me." 

"Tell me what you’ve done," the Doctor said angrily. "Just tell me what you’ve done and then I’ll undo it. You can’t keep her like this. Like a pet." 

"Like a pet?" The Master sniffed. "Doctor, she’s my wife not a poodle. Those are my children. Be more respectful! Future of our species you’re talking about there." 

"Just give her back to me," the Doctor whispered. "Just leave. I won’t tell Torchwood or UNIT. Just," he stuttered. "Just leave. You don’t have to do whatever it is you have planned. You can let her and the children go. Take the Tardis if you want. It’s yours. Just give her back to me." 

"She’s not a possession Doctor. We can’t trade her back and forth. Besides, I wouldn’t dare leave her or my children." He leaned close so that his mouth was pressed to the Doctor’s ear. "I love them. Her. And even if you’d turn me over to Torchwood they’d still be mine. You’d just be some pathetic, sorry substitute." 

"You?" The Doctor looked at him. 

"I love her," the Master repeated as he pushed the Doctor away and rearranged his clothing. "Don’t ask me how it happened, because it wasn’t at all what I intended, but I do. Now, we’re leaving. Enjoy you’re next few centuries in Cardiff Doctor. Maybe we’ll stop by for a visit again. Perhaps the next child."

The Master had walked away from him then nonchalantly. Like two old mates who’d lost touch. The Doctor couldn’t help following him though. He knew the Master had done something to Martha. There was some way he was holding her to him. Some mental trick. Threats perhaps? Against her? Against her children? He had to follow so that when the Master did something he’d be there to rescue her. There to pick up the pieces. 

He watched from around the corner as the Master made his way into the department store’s cafe. The Master walked straight to Martha’s table at the window and the Doctor felt his hearts break at the look in her eyes. The joy he could see glowing there when she saw the Master. "Finished your tea?" He heard the Master ask gently before giving her a hug. 

"Mmm," she agreed. "Had a cinnamon roll as well." 

"Was it good?" 

"Delicious." 

"I’ll order a dozen for us to take home," the Master said with a smile. "In case you get a craving later." 

The smile was enough to shatter the Doctor’s hearts. "That would be lovely," she agreed as she leaned down to adjust the blanket covering the children’s legs in the pram. 

"Selfish," he heard the Master laugh. "Saves me from coming back here to get them later when you have a craving in the middle of the night. I’m learning." 

"You’re learning?" She teased. 

"Always anticipate your pregnant wife’s cravings," the Master chuckled as he walked back toward the counter to place their order. The Doctor felt empty watching them. She didn’t appear afraid or him or nervous. She wasn’t acting hypnotized. Nothing was holding Martha Jones to the Master. 

"I love her," the other Time Lord had said. "I love them. My wife. My children." Could that be what it was? Could she, Martha Jones, actually love the Master? 

"What about him?" He heard her ask as the Master helped her slowly to her feet. "The Doctor?" 

"He’s gone." The Master replied. 

"He’s not going to come after you is he? Send Torchwood to track you down? He didn’t threaten you or anything?" 

"No," he watched as the Master assured her. Took hold of the pram’s handle and began to push it with one hand while wrapping the other around her swollen waist. "He didn’t threaten me with anything. He wanted to congratulate us. Best man won and all that." 

Just as they reached the doorway though he turned around to where the Doctor was standing and simply smiled. That same mischevious smile he always wore when a plan had gone his way. 

"I win", the Master had said. The Doctor tried his hardest not to crumple onto the department store floor and cry as he watched them go. " I win," he’d said and in that moment the Doctor faced a horrible truth. He had. The Master had come in and stolen everything he wanted and the Doctor had been so busy he hadn’t even noticed it was gone. Reflexively he reached for his mobile and dialed Jack. His thumb lingered over the send key though. He wondered for a moment if it wouldn’t be better just to let them go. 


End file.
